


Shift

by Otheliame



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AMAB Asra, Abuse, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Basically lets watch Asra fall in love with the Apprentice, Beginnings, Blood, Blood and Injury, Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm establishing expectations, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It hops between MC's and Asra's, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Third Person Limited, Past Abuse, Past Violence, Pining, Set Before the Canon, Slow Burn, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, When you meet Asra "9 years ago", adding more tags as I go, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 152,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otheliame/pseuds/Otheliame
Summary: Jamie originally came to Vesuvia for a new beginning, to start fresh. He'd tried to live in other places across the world but he never found his place anywhere, but he has hope for the city. Here, he can just melt into the crowd, here he's just another face among thousands... here he can hide from himself and from others, to keep people from digging too deep into him.But fate, of course had other plans when the Seventh Princess of Prakra comes and Jamie finds himself (literally) falling into a situation he never could have dreamed of. From then on out... everything shifts, for better or for worse. The people that Jamie meets will affect him more than he's willing to admit... and he will affect them more than he could ever possibly account for.-*Basically, I'm in love with the Arcana and really wanted to develop what Asra and my Apprentice's relationship would have been like / how it would have evolved before the plague, and I figured, fuck it. So this story starts on the day that you meet Asra for the first time nine years ago in the canon.Want tooth rotting fluff? Want such tangible yearning that you tear your hair out because they're SO IN LOVE BUT WONT ADMIT IT?! This may be the fic for you!*
Relationships: Apprentice & Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	1. The Magician

The sun glimmers brightly overhead as I make my way down the crowded streets, weaving between shoppers while keeping close to the fringes of the walkways. I cusp around the edges of the multicolored stalls to avoid the majority of foot traffic, but it’s proving hard as it’s a particularly busy day in the market, everyone is out and about, not just buying but lingering, talking over each other with excited voices in large clusters spanning the entire street. Something’s happening in Vesuvia today, something special. As much as I’d like to know what that something is, I don’t want to get caught up with the crowd… it’s been a long day. 

Today of all days I feel my patience is shorter, Isaac was a bit more of a hardass than usual and it makes the above-average bustle of the street that much more difficult for me to handle, every voice seems to multiply and reverberate in my thoughts like the vibration of insect wings. I’ve lived here for a month now, trying to get by and make a living and it’s been alright thus far, especially since Ksasthra took me in; here is better than there and there was worse than that, so long and so forth, unimportant details now because this is better. Vesuvia is going to be better for me. I can feel it. 

A colorful stream from a showcased scarf plays in front of me on a caught breeze as I try to make my way through the market stalls heading towards the lower district, I have to duck to avoid the hawking shopkeeper so I don’t get drawn into a purchase. Luckily, the multitude of customers I have to dodge and weave to get through keep them busy enough to not pay me the slightest attention. I just finished my shift at the local community theatre, doing basic backstage work for all sorts of performances, and right now I want nothing more than to hide away in my small, shared apartment by the waterfront and  _ rest,  _ especially while the one who agreed to house me, Ksasthra, is still back at the theatre for work until much later. The work I did today wasn’t particularly stressful or anything, but being around my coworkers just made me  _ tired.  _ I still feel like there’s hot breath on the back of my neck wherever I turn, and even now it’s still a hard thought to shake. 

I originally questioned my own decision in living in a city - I’ve never lived in an area with more than a hundred people in a given spot - but at the time I made the choice, I thought I  _ had _ no choice. There just aren’t any jobs out in the foothills, and I never learned how to live off the land alone. Though, mostly it was the fact that my attempts to blend in or hide in the vast, sparsely populated, wintry lands of the deep northeast proved largely unsuccessful. Soon I had the realization that my best bet of finally being left alone was to find someplace where I could melt into a crowd. And in order to melt, one must first find a crowd, so to the city I had to go. Vesuvia was the largest, farthest city I could’ve gone to without taking a boat, so it was to Vesuvia I went to escape… to escape. It helped as well that the further south I went, the less people’s gazes would cling to my shoulders, which I quite liked. A lot. I’m not sure why though, for I’m certain I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere. Up north it was the… things… I could do. Here it’s the fact that everyone is colorful and loud and I’m not.

I don’t like being around people, usually because people also don’t like to be around me. I’m… weird, for lack of a better word. I have certain… abilities that other people don’t have, and in my experience if you have something that other people don’t they either envy you or fear you, and both of those things are the worst emotions to see on other faces. But here, in a city full of so much vibrant color, varient life, people of a hundred different types… I’m just another uninteresting face. That’s what I wanted when I came here. It’s thoughts like this that keep my grounded when I get too overwhelmed by citylife around here, such as now, when I’m just trying to get home. Before I came to Vesuvia, I would see the amount of people on this street alone over the span of several months. It’s still very… difficult to get used to this new atmosphere, even three months later.  _ Almost to the street corner, almost there, then I’m home free… Maybe I can finally finish that book Ksasthra gave me…  _

Suddenly, over the jumbled voices of the shoppers on the street, loud, victorious trumpets resound through the air, stealing all eyes from their tasks to the mouth of the street far down the way. I look up and peer through the heads and shoulders of onlookers to try and see what it is that’s causing such a disturbance before I realize that regardless of whatever it is, this is the perfect opportunity to escape through the crowd to the lower district. Quickly I turn and make my way there, but as I grow close to the corner I realize that whatever is happening is also happening on this end of the street; I see mounted soldiers in gleaming silver armor bearing unfamiliar emblems on tall, colorful standards and shining trumpets, using both of these items to loudly announcing the presence of someone important, someone that I now realize is about to enter this street. 

Other shoppers quickly seem to realize this as well, and like a tidal wave people start to shove others from the middle of the street into the outskirts, pressing shopkeepers back behind their stall counters and pushing everyone in their way into the wooden fixtures. I barely get out of the way just as a burly masculine figure makes his way through but I get caught up in the wave as others start hurrying out of the street’s center, I scurry to keep upright. 

Suddenly I get shoved back by a gaggle of inattentive shoppers trying to get out of the way right as I try to duck between stalls. I trip and lose my footing, I let out an innately sharp cry as fear of being tramped leaps into my throat but before I hit the ground I smash straight through a market stand’s doorway, which was just a wooden bar draped with a velvety, purple cloth hemmed with gold trim. My shoulders smack the cobblestones as a multitude of things fall on me from the counter’s surface, ripped down from when I took the tablecloth with me. I hold up my hands as I’m hit with a waft of rich, heady herbs and dried grasses, then with strange light smacks, like a small stack of papers just fell on me. 

Hands reach under my arms and pull me a little farther backwards into the stall I had fallen into, the touch startles me so much I flinch, making the hands immediately disappear. An intimate voice like honey and wind gasps by my ear over the loud din of the rowdy street, “Are you alright?” 

When the strange hands touch me I snap back to attention and regain my bearings like the flare of a starting fire, I sit up and blink as I try to figure out where I am right when I meet the stranger’s gaze… layers of periwinkle, lavender, and lilac, glimmering like stardust in the evening sunshine. They appear masculine presenting, young like me, definitely not old enough to be considered fully gown, with hazelnut skin that gleams like bronze armor and thick, fluffy, silver-white hair that hangs over those starry eyes in wild, soft curls. Starry they are in more ways than one, because the stranger stares at me with such an awestruck expression I suddenly feel incredibly self conscious half-lying on the floor of their stall - it must be their stall, as they’re the only one behind the counter… The counter I just fell through getting pushed by the crowd. 

“I…! Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I stammer in embarrassment, brushing myself off as I perch my feet in preparation to stand, though as I do I realize I’m covered in all kinds of herbs, dried flowers, and other reagents that I must’ve accidentally taken with me when I ripped this cloth off the counter in my fall. There are also a dozen or more rather beautiful cards scattered on the cobblestones, though they are like no deck of betting cards I’ve ever seen, even at a passing glance and I can tell as such. An array of masks also accompany this strange collection, the first two I see is one that depicts a fox with little ornamental gems hanging from the ears, the other that’s rugged wood configured in a bear’s face with runes carved into its realistically crafted fur. The stranger’s hands linger no longer on but near my shoulders as I pull myself upright, he continues to stare at me with wide, owlish eyes as I speak so fast my words bumble over each other, “I didn’t mean to, that was completely on accident, please forgive me-!” 

“It’s alright!” The boy quickly speaks again with that same gentle, sweet tone, gripping my shoulders to return my gaze to his lavender hues rather than to the cobblestones now littered with his stall’s offerings, and this time I don’t flinch. His lilac eyes flicker across my features then down over my form, checking for injuries as he mutters, “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

I shake my head, kneeling down as I try to gather the fallen reagents and masks onto the purple cloth and recollect the fallen, oriental cards, “I’m fine, I’m fine! I’m so sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention, let me help-” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His hands, with long dextrous fingers, smooth palms and marble-carved knuckles breach my vision and stall my hands where they are hovering over the cloth, returning my gaze back to his. I start when I feel the sparks under my skin where we touch, but now that I’m paying better attention I realize it’s not simply just me being startled by the touch, but rather it seems to be some sort of…  _ energy…  _ coming from this boy. A deep torrent of something, power, internal lightning, vitality, runs under his palms like I plunged my hands into the rush of a waterfall. 

He smiles at me when I remeet his gaze, a warm and amicable smile that showcases a handsome dimple in his left cheek as he hums, “Really, it’s alright.” 

I let out a slightly relieved breath, and look back down at our conjoined hands over the spilled tablecloth. Does he feel it, too? I’ve never felt someone’s aura so tangibly before- 

I realize this must be strange, how I loiter over his hands, so I quickly clear my throat and pull mine away. “Erm… What do I owe you for your lost goods?” Idly to distract myself from the embarrassment I pick up a small fallen herb between my thumb and forefinger, I think it’s a rose petal as that’s what it smells like, then one of the fallen cards; it depicts a plain with a sun hanging overhead with long, golden beams down onto the grass, a numeral 0 at the bottom to show which way is up or down I suppose. It looks hand painted too, very ornate and intimately crafted, it’s incredibly impressive,  _ did he paint this himself? _ I hold these two things up with a curious hum, I glance back up at the stranger after a moment and tilt my head to the side, “What’re you selling, anyway?”

The boy looks at the rose petal in my hand, then at the card, and then back at me with that same owlish look as before right as the air rings with more trumpets, and the crowd just outside of the safe haven of the stall begins to warble. Intrigued, the both of us rise up to look over the counter just in time to see a carriage driving by through the carved path in the streets that the people have rushed to clear. The carriage is richly ornamented, emblazoned with the same colors as the crests the armored knights accompanying it carry, and obviously is not Vesuvian made, drawn by one white, one black horse with thick, luxurious manes. In the open windows the pulled back, rich violet drapes reveal a regal, female presenting person inside. I only get a few seconds to see her through the crowd, though just by her long, royal facial features and her stature alone I know that she must be some sort of powerful noble, most likely from a far away land. 

Once the carriage passes and the knights fall in on her, the crowds bustle and burst with noise, people whisper amongst themselves theories of who this newcomer is. I idly recall that there was supposed to be some big summer festival happening soon, so perhaps she’s here for that. Though, I’m not very keen on politics or current events beyond that a war just ended, so I don’t know much beyond that. And, frankly, it’s a miracle I know  _ that  _ much. The politics of this land are very different than they are back up in the depths of the northeast. There things are… very different. 

In my peripheral I see the stranger moving again, so I turn towards him just as he lifts the herbs, the masks, and the cards, which we had collected onto the fallen tablecloth, back onto the counter. Then he lifts a hidden leather satchel from within the stall’s inner walls and pack them away inside it, slotting the cards carefully in his palm as he goes. The movements of his arms draw my gaze away from his face for the first time and instead to the layers of colorful cloth around his person; his half-buttoned baby blue tunic that reveals his sternum and a little more above a dark magenta scarf with gold fringes that hangs across one of his shoulders and around his neck. He also dons a vibrant pink, blue, and peach overcoat without sleeves covered in radial patterns, and black trousers that his blouse is loosely tucked into. I swear I see something move around his waist beneath his coat but before I get the chance to investigate further he turns in my direction. Beneath his scarf I catch a glimmer of gold, a choker; it’s engraved with waved designs and somewhat blends in with the rich hues of his skin. Below that a turquoise pendant on a leather chord around his neck hangs over the bared part of his chest in a manner that makes it gleam like the depths of the sea in the sunlight. Richly adorned with beautiful baubles, just like everyone in this city, yet somehow… different. Unique. 

Suddenly I realize just where my eyes are lingering so I quickly snap my attention to his face, where it  _ should  _ have been this whole time. As soon as I do he fixes his gaze to mine and speaks in a low hum, “It doesn’t look like anything was damaged, no need to worry.” A sudden, sly smirk slightly plays the edge of his lips as he catches my gaze, I wonder idly if he caught me looking over his form as he adds with a more heartfelt touch, “I’m glad you’re alright.” 

I blink at him in surprise and feel another rush of crimson snaking its way to my face, I have to clear my throat and rein in my thoughts to pull my attention back to the present. “Right! Of course… Yes. I mean, good. That’s good to hear. That nothing was damaged, I mean…”  _ Jamie, please.  _ I glance over at the broken wooden shards on the ground and paw them with my boot as my mouth continues to run, “Not even something for the stall door?”

The amusement in the boy’s eyes lights like sparks flying from a blacksmith’s hammer as he regards me, a small chuckle escapes his lips as he begins to fold the now-empty tablecloth on his now-barren stall. “If you’re truly so troubled…” He pauses as if he’s reconsidering his words but after the moment’s hesitation he continues, his expression morphing from teasing and playful to curious and… hopeful, almost. “I was just going to close up shop anyway to get dinner… I wouldn’t be opposed to company. Would you consider that a form of ‘repayment’?” He says this with a lilt of sly humor, the light of the evening sun making his gaze seem to truly dance with entertainment.

Now, I am no fool, but for a moment he almost had me thinking that I was one, as my mind reeled and somersaulted over itself trying to figure out what he was implying, but once it finally hits me like a clock striking midnight I blink with a stunned hum as I nervously worm my fingertips into the strap of my satchel around my shoulder. “... Oh!” 

The boy’s gaze softens, quickly adding after a moment as he folds his tablecloth in triangles, “Only if you want to, of course. It’s not every day that someone falls into my stall… I simply can’t help but think it’s a sign of some sort. I’d love to know what kind of sign it is by getting to know you a little.” 

I raise an eyebrow at the other in surprise, thumbing my satchel idly as I respond slowly, tasting my words, “A sign?” 

He looks back at me with an amused raise in his lips, and only then do my thoughts suddenly jog and dig into the scene I find myself in. The herbs, the curious, colorful attire, the cards… cards unlike any playing cards I’ve ever seen. “Oh.” I murmur, flickering my gaze back to his bemused expression, “Are you one of those fortune tellers? Do they let you do that so young?”

The boy smiles and chuckles, placing the tablecloth in his satchel before he splays out the cards in his palm before him, I can see him counting them with his thumb as he answers, “I suppose some would call me that. Though I don’t think there’s an age limit on reading cards…” Content with the amount of cards he has, he returns them into a pile and slides them into a hidden pocket in his apparel before his hand sweeps before me and gentle takes up mine, before I can react he brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, I can feel his lips move on my skin when he speaks in a playful hum, “But _ you _ may call me Asra.” 

I swallow thick on a sudden knot of roots in my throat, I smile shyly and chuckle as he releases my hand and straightens back upright. Nervously I laugh a little, simply out of nerves because no one has done  _ that  _ to me before. “... Right. Okay, uh… Asra.” 

There’s a beat of silence as Asra the fortune teller regards me with what I think to be an expectant look, after a beat’s pause he tilts his head to the side with a raise in an eyebrow, “And you are?” 

“Oh!” I blink and laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the heat return to my cheeks, “Right. Names. Introductions… Er- I’m Jamie.” 

“Jamie.” Asra echoes, nodding in response as he seems to savor the vowels on his tongue before he gives me a soft smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

I start slightly when someone jostles the stall, apparently on accident as they were attempting to get by a group of people wagging their jaws. When I look back at Asra I see his gaze is flickering across my features with a pensive expression I’m not quite sure what to do with as he moves like water around me towards the hole in his stall where the latch once was. “Have you ever been to the bakery down the block?” He asks suddenly, pausing in the entrance and looking back at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head, prompting the fortune teller to smile with genuine amusement as he holds out a hand towards me, an open invitation. 

I hesitate, looking at him then at his hand for a long pause. Of course strangers are never to be trusted, but he is rather visually unassuming in terms of combat skill so I have faith that I can handle myself if this one were to try anything. I have been able to protect myself plenty of times in the past. But paranoia aside, I can’t lie, I am a little intrigued by their… disposition. I  _ do _ find myself wanting to get to know them better, and this aura of theirs… I simply must know more. And I hadn’t exactly had other plans for the evening… 

This may as well happen. 

I slowly take his hand. 

Asra smiles at me, that little dimple in his cheek illuminating the lights in his eyes as he leads me out of the empty stall and into the bustling street. 

Now, normally, I wouldn’t hold hands with a stranger, but it proves necessary in order to keep up with the fortune teller with the crowd jostling so actively after the foreign noble woman’s recent appearance. His palms are surprisingly soft and I’m grateful to all that’s good in the world that for once my own aren’t sweaty. Occasionally he’ll glance back at me as he leads me through the throngs of people to ensure I’m with him and when he does I give him an encouraging smile. 

This isn’t at  _ all  _ what I thought would happen to me today. I find a cage of birds replacing my stomach as I weave through people with him. It’s not just because of how interesting I find him, but also because of the questions that are beginning to blossom on my tongue. Even now, among the thousands of other stimulants around me, I can feel the energy coursing beneath his skin like a rushing river. What could it mean? Why is it so… powerful?

I have always had the ability to sense everyone’s vitality, or life essence, in a tangible fashion that I can feel when I touch them. Everyone has one, each one specialized and unique per individual, I can tell what kind of person they are depending on what kind of feeling they have when I touch them. This isn’t news to me; it’s part of the strangeness about me that typically makes me stand out on interpersonal levels. What  _ is  _ new, however, is just how  _ powerful _ and  _ deep  _ this particular stranger’s essence is. It startled me so much I thought it was because he had initially hurt me. 

I want to know what is it about this fortune teller that makes this happen. Most fortune tellers that I’ve met in Vesuvia alone are garbage, they just give out faux, generalized fortunes of good wealth for gold pieces but I’ve heard word in the theatre that there was one among the few collected in this city that was more legitimate than the others, someone surprisingly young. Though I never paid much attention to such rumors… I wonder if this is he.

Not that I really needed much of an excuse to spend more time with this alluring stranger. If nothing else… he is certainly cute. It wouldn’t hurt me to get to know them more. Beautiful people, however, I find are less beautiful on the inside, which makes my guard rise a little more.

We near the farther end of the market street right as we reach our quandary, a little bakery squeezed between two different boutiques. Rich scents of spices, sweet and heady waft onto the street from within, immediately making my aching stomach lurch with want. Outside are a series of small, iron wrought tables and chairs, clinging to the wall so as to not impede the foot traffic on the street. A figure emerges from within the bakery, a masculine presenting person with strong arms and a friendly face. He’s covered in a thin layer of flour on his forearms that shine like stardust in the evening light and he wears a white apron on top of a cream colored tunic with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. As soon as he spots Asra and I making our way to him he beams with the force of sunlight and waves, “Good evening, Asra! You brought a new friend with you!” 

Asra glances back at me with a playful shimmer in his eye as we make our way to his position, “I did. This is Jamie.” I wave amicably with a shy aside, realizing that Asra and I are still holding hands. I release him quickly so that his apparent baker friend doesn’t get the wrong idea. 

The baker smiles brightly at me in response and speaks amicably as if we are his closest friends, “It’s wonderful to see you out and about. I just finished up a batch of your favorite, I’ll have it out for you in a minute!” With that he disappears back inside the bakery, the sound of wood hitting wood resonating softly from within as he returns to work. 

Asra chuckles softly, drawing my attention back to him, “Selasi’s pumpkin bread is wonderful. I think you’ll enjoy it.” He cocks an eyebrow at me and gestures towards one of the small tables pushed against the wall. I follow his lead, sitting across from him at the table and settling my elbow on the back of the chair, looking out across the street idly to keep tabs of my surroundings. People are still out and about even as the sun is setting, I figure the street lights will come on in about an hour, and an hour after that the darkness of night will grip the streets.  _ I’m not particularly fond of walking home in the dark, but… _

“So, Jamie…” I snap back to attention and focus on the other as they say my name. A small smile plays on Asra’s lips as he regards me, both elbows leaning on the table with his chin in his hands as he speaks with amusement, “You don’t look like you’re from around here… and now that you know what  _ I _ do, I’d be eager to hear more about the mysterious stranger who broke into my stall.” 

I laugh awkwardly with a shy smile, “Did I mention how sorry I was about that?”

Asra smiles with amusement, his lilac eyes twinkling, “Once or twice, perhaps.”

I relax against the seat. Despite the crowd that continues to fester on the streets, I feel like this small bubble of rosemary and clove is removed from them all; it feels as if the world consists of just me and Asra, alone, next to the bakery. Anxiety is but a long forgotten half-formed thought in this atmosphere of warmth, which is strange… I’ve never felt so at home someplace so fast. Not even in my own room at Ksasthra’s do I feel as secure as I am here. “Well, I do nothing as interesting as fortune telling.” I respond with an offhanded wave, ignoring his implicated first question with an anxious lump in my stomach at the thought of explaining what brought me here. “I’ve been a stagehand at the community theatre for about a month now… it can be fun most days.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow in curiosity, “Oh?” 

“Oh yeah. The drama that happens backstage can rival that of what happens in front of the curtain.” I cock an eyebrow over at him and face him more fully, speaking animately with my hands as I continue, “For example, my coworker Jeremiah…” 

I finish with the silly tale from work - long story short, Jeremiah once had a jilted lover attempt to confront him during a performance and it entertained all except for him - just as the baker, Selasi Asra had called him, emerges from within the bakery, bearing forth two loaves of mouth-watering bread wrapped in linen. He sets it on the table between us and grins, in between soft chuckles Asra hands Selasi something that looks kind of like pearls before he heads back inside. Once he’s gone Asra pushes one loaf towards me, smiling with joyful marks around his eyes, “Please, try it! You won’t regret it.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him as he takes a bite from his loaf like it’s a hunk of cheese before inspecting mine, after a pause I mutter, “And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be repaying  _ you.  _ You know, for breaking your stall door?” 

The loaf smells like pumpkin spice and cloves, it’s fresh and fluffy and despite my words I find myself unable to resist taking a bite, mimicking Asra. It’s a perfect balance of sweet and even, rich and thick but not too heavy… it  _ is  _ spectacular. 

“Believe me, you already are.” Asra responds enigmatically, smirking at me a little mysteriously as he rips bite sized chunks off of his bread loaf with his hands. 

I flush a little self consciously, looking down at the bread before I suddenly gasp in recollection, setting down my bread on the cloth as I shift through my satchel, “Oh! I have some leftover cheese from my lunch!” I pull the hunk out from within where I’d wrapped it in a rag, using my thumbs I pry it apart into two roughly equal halves before setting one on Asra’s side of the table, on top of the cloth the baker brought the bread in. He blinks at it and then at me, his mouth full of bread as he looks at me like I just told him I was the Count of Vesuvia. I giggle slightly and gesture towards it offhandedly, “If you uh… if you want some. So you aren’t just eating a straight loaf of bread without something to… I don’t know… break up the flavors a bit?”

Asra seems to shake off his surprise with ease, flashing me a smile as he picks up the cheese in a cheering gesture, “Vesuvia’s best bread, now this cheese… all we need is some music or something and I’d call this is a dinner fit for the nobles!” 

I roll my eyes and laugh, and although he’s joking I can’t help but agree. Especially with the evening rays falling behind the horizon painting the skies in deep purples, pinks, and reds, it’s basically like the banners of a royal hall. The din of people finishing up their business on the market street fade away into the tenors of an orchestra, the small table between us and the chairs backing us grow gilded in the last light of day… a dinner for royalty indeed. 

Asra catches my attention again as he murmurs, “So, you’ve been working at the theatre for a month… How long have you been in Vesuvia?” 

_ Oh boy. Personal questions… my favorite. _

I smile sheepishly and shrug without commitment, “About the same amount of time.” Before he can ask me a followup question I reverse the tables on him instead, “How about you? Are you a native Vesuvian?” 

Asra’s gaze flickers a little at the question and falls askew before the lackluster falls away and his normal glimmer returns, it happens to fast that I could’ve blinked and missed it as he responds in a low voice, “I’ve been here for as long as I can remember, yes. Vesuvia is my home.” He smiles at me, it seems perfectly natural but after seeing the flicker of loss in his eyes just before I can’t help but wonder if it’s a facade as he continues, “What’s your favorite part of the city so far?” 

I tilt my head to the side in thought.  _ Well at least he’s not asking me about where I came from before. _ “Of the city…? I’m not sure. I like the architecture of all the buildings up by the palace, it’s very beautiful… And I suppose the docks are also nice, I like to look out on the water sometimes and see how it stretches forever and ever…” I blink when I realize how silly I must sound, so dreamy and childish, quickly I clear my throat and laugh awkwardly as I gesture in that direction, “The Lazaret is also quite beautiful, though I’ve never actually been over there. It is nice to look at from afar, though… Does that count as a part of the city?” 

Asra smiles, a relaxed slope in his shoulders as he rests his cheek in his palm regarding me with interest, “I’d say so.” He seems to have forgotten about his bread and cheese, it rests abandoned on the cloth, instead he seems entirely invested in whatever is in my eyes because he hasn’t looked away from them since I gave him some of my cheese.

I shrug, smiling out of sheer self consciousness before I gesture towards him with my chin, “Well, what about you?” 

After presenting the floor to Asra I take the opportunity to finish off the fantastic bread and my cheese, feeling suddenly very content and warm with the fresh food in my stomach. 

Asra watches me with a pensive expression, speaking after a few moment’s thought, “I personally enjoy the forests just outside the city gates. They’re beautiful, especially in autumn when the leaves change color…” He adds as an aside, sitting a little more upright as he does, “I have to venture out there often for reagents and the like. At least, the ones that are native to this area. Sometimes I have to travel for others.” 

“Right. For your  _ magical tonics _ and stuff.” I mutter with a jesting tone, leaning an elbow on the back of my chair as I press on, “What do you mean, the leaves change color?” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me in curiosity, an expression crosses his features that I’m unsure how to read as he answers, “Well… Just before winter comes and the air starts to get cold, the leaves become yellow, red, orange… and eventually they fall off the branches when the snows come.” After a pause he fixes me with that strange, inscrutable look, “Where are you from that you have never seen leaves change?”

_ Curses.  _ “Very far north.” I reply enigmatically, waving a hand slightly, “It never gets as warm as it is here up there. Snow is relatively constant.” 

“Oh… I see. By Prakra?”

I shake my head. “That’s more northwest. I’m from the northeast.” I see Asra part his lips to ask another question so instead I launch a statement of my own to alter the course of the conversation, “How interesting the leaves change here, I can’t wait to see it! Does it do it all at once?” 

The fortune teller smiles enigmatically. “No, it takes time. Weeks, usually. It shouldn’t be too long. Summer will soon be over before you know it.” Asra murmurs in response, his tone slightly distracted, but it’s wiped clean when he continues with a smoother, suave voice, “We could see them together, if you’d like.” 

I’m about to say  _ perhaps,  _ but as I consider it more seriously… I realize that I don’t want this evening to be the last. I can imagine it clearly, venturing out beyond the walls with Asra to see these leaves changing as summer becomes autumn. Strangely enough, the faux memory I’m conjuring smells like clove and pumpkin. “I’d like that.” I murmur truthfully, giving Asra a small smile. 

As he returns my smile I notice something move under his magenta scarf across his chest. I focus on it and realize that there is something there, beneath his scarf, winding across his chest and moving to his shoulder beneath the overcoat. I see a small glimmer of mauve and white scales, just about as thick around as my wrist.

Asra seems to notice me looking, and as he looks down he doesn’t react in shock or surprise like I was expecting, rather he smiles a little and chuckles, “Oh, how silly of me, I forgot more introductions were in order.” He fishes under his scarf and to my shock produces a small snake, about long enough to touch Asra’s elbows from tail to nose if it lay across his shoulders. It has mauve color splashes on its back and white on its belly, and as it raises its head to peer at me bright scarlet eyes meet mine, and I have a moment to dwell in my surprise as they seem to scan me with curiosity. “Jamie, this is Faust.” Asra looks down at the snake and smiles, addressing it directly as he hums in a low voice, “Faust, this is Jamie.” 

I blink with wide eyes at the snake before waving a little, unsure of what the protocol to introduce oneself to a snake. I reach out to touch it but hesitate at the last second, pausing and flickering my gaze from Asra to the snake… Faust… with apprehension. Faust’s head tilts slightly to the side with a curious look, like my movement confused it. 

Asra notices my movement and smiles, “You can pet her. Be careful, though, she likes to squeeze.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him in slight confusion, slowly but surely I reach out and stroke a part of Faust’s back. She seems to appreciate this, as she moves and rests her head on my forearm before she starts to slither onto me instead, wrapping her tail around my wrist. As promised, she squeezes, it’s like a firm grasp of a handshake in terms of pressure before she releases, then squeezing again in gentle pulses. 

“You’ve had her on you this whole time?” I ask with obvious shock in my voice, glancing back at Asra as Faust unwinds herself from around my arm and returns to his shoulder, apparently pleased with the introduction. 

Beside us a man walks by bearing a torch lighter, I watch him only briefly as he goes about lighting the streetlamps before my attention is returned to Asra as he nods. Smiling as he lifts his arms a little to allow Faust to situate herself beneath his scarf once more, his gaze is warm and fond, “She likes to be near. I can’t just leave my familiar at home, now can I?” 

I blink in shock, stunned for a beat before I mutter, “... Familiar?”

Asra regards me for a long moment, as if he’s incredulous that I’m asking the question before he nods, “Familiars are magical animal companions that assist with spells and rituals. But it’s more than that, she’s… I’m unsure how best to describe it. She’s my friend.” 

I blink for several more seconds.  _ Spells? Rituals? _ I bite my lip in thought, before I can get the better of myself I blurt, “I see… so you’re not just a fortune teller, you’re also a witch?” 

Asra seems to almost visibly shrink from the word, sitting fully upright in his seat. He responds with a slightly uncomfortable edge in his tone and a darkness shrouding the lavender of his eyes to hues of violet, “I prefer the word  _ magician _ … but yes. I use magic.” He gives me a once over before he murmurs with a surprised voice, his shoulders upright and tense, “I didn’t think that that would be an issue with you.” 

Quickly I shake my head, waving my hands frantically, “It’s not! It’s not, I promise it’s not.” He almost immediately relaxes in response, his shoulders returning to their normal resting level though his eyes continue to gleam with confusion in the low golden light of the setting sun and the lit lamps. Idly I wonder why he thought it wouldn’t be an issue with me but I decide that’s not what’s important right now, so instead I continue with a more respectful, cautious tone, “... Sorry. I didn’t know that’s what it was called. Up north I’ve only ever heard people who use magic being referred to as witches. Is that… not right?”

Asra’s expression morphs again, but instead of mild hurt now his gaze reflects something like… pity, understanding and a softened sadness. I’m not quite sure what to do with it. He leans forward as he speaks in a gentler voice, as if to a child, “Only people who don’t understand magic call people who use it that word. And they mean to use it in a hurtful manner… like magic is wrong.” Upon seeing my expression his hands drop from the table, instead fishing beneath until he finds my hands wound tight on my knees, gently he coaxes them open and holds them gently as he continues with that same sweet tone, “But it isn’t. Magic is just as natural as breathing, or running, and is a part of all of us. It just comes to some easier than others to use and understand.” 

I stare at Asra for a long moment, unsure of what to say as the energy under his skin pulses like a river under my fingertips. A gaggle of kids our age pass by, loudly laughing at something that brings me enough out of this gentle bubble I find myself in with Asra to pull my hands out of his. “I see.” I respond with a genuinely appreciative look. “I haven’t any idea how all that works, with any of that… as you can probably tell…” 

Asra cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at me, sending a sudden shock of fear down my back, the terrifying knowledge of being known. However, before he can say anything back the door behind him closes as the baker, Selasi, emerges with a broom. He spots us and blinks in surprise, “Oh, Asra! Jamie! You’re still here!” He sets the broom against the wall, smiling at us brightly as he laughs heartily, “Don’t let me interrupt you, you take as long as you want out here. Just be safe getting home, now!” He heads back inside his shop as suddenly as he came out. I blink and look out and around and realize that the market street is all but abandoned, the street lamps have already been lit and nighttime has fully fallen on Vesuvia.  _ Wow… have Asra and I really been here for that long?  _

Asra seems to realize the same, as he turns to me with a soft hum, “I suppose we ought to leave Selasi to sweep.” I nod in agreement and we both rise from our seats, though I find myself hesitating. I haven’t made many connections since I’ve arrived to the city outside of those few I have at work, and I never really make too many that leave me wanting to spend more time with the person, but the thought of this evening already coming to a close has my heart aching for a  _ next. _

_ Is that even within the realm of possibility? He mentioned something about getting together when the leaves change but that’s far in the future…  _

Asra wraps the remains of his bread and cheese, apparently no longer forgotten, and puts them in his satchel as he turns to me, “Allow me to walk you home?” 

“Only if I don’t bring you too far out of the way.” I counter, readjusting the strap on my own bag as I stand nervously nearby, trying to drive out the excitement riddling my veins, “I live down by the docks.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow and proffers me a smile as he takes up step beside me, “Funny… me too.” He gestures towards the street, and together we stride out from the bakery’s front steps and downward, heading towards the location I’d been so desperate to get to but a few hours ago. We’re mostly quiet as we go, though Asra does occasionally point out some things as we walk, such as a weave of ivy crawling up the wall that apparently blossoms a flower whose nectar helps with headaches when soaked in tea. It’s quite endearing to listen to, and looking at that wall I idly wonder if I’ll remember this moment when I pass it on my way to work. 

We head down lower into the city, quite literally as there are a few stairs we have to take to head into the lower districts. Vesuvia is constructed in several tiers, with the market in about the middle and some residential districts scattered from there all the way down to the lower deck by the dock; the palace and other, upper tier businesses on the top level. The street lamps were already lit in the market part of the city, but as we head lower many have not been lit yet, and many end up not getting lit because it’s residential anyhow, though it does make the thinner streets seem a little creepier. I learned the hard way after my third or fourth night in the city that being out after dark at this hour means a few things: you’re either a drunk, a criminal, simply up to no good, or some combination thereof, though luckily I haven’t had any problems with anyone, though I’m not worried if such a problem were to arise. There’s one perk to my particular… talents, and it’s driving people away when I need to.

Of course Asra would know this as well, for when a  _ clang  _ resonates from a nearby alleyway he immediately grabs onto my forearm and tugs me closer to him. He only relaxes when a stray tabby cat races by, chasing a rat down the street and into the night. 

“Don’t worry,” I coo with a soft, slightly jesting hum once he releases me, “I’ll protect you.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow over at me and smiles, chuckling in response, “Why thank you, my brave knight.” 

I try not to blush, but fortunately the relative darkness keeps my self consciousness a secret. 

We turn the corner together with a loss in tension when suddenly we almost run smack into a figure that just leapt out into the middle of the path. I jerk Asra back just in time as they take a threatening advance forward, they’re cloaked with the cowl thrown up to hide their features and stand a few inches taller than me, a rough voice like dropped nails scraping on stone greets us coarsely, “Alright, let’s make this quick and easy, kids. Wallets out. Now.” 

I can’t help it, immediately I let out a long, annoyed sigh. “Are you fucking serious right now?” 

Asra tenses beside me and gasps under his breath, “Jamie-” 

I hear a set of footsteps from behind us, I turn just in time to see a second figure, illuminated by the moonlight overhead. Like the first, they wear a heavy cloak that covers their features, probably so people can’t describe them to the guards after they rob them blind. It’s then that I notice that they’re both armed with daggers, gleaming dangerously in the low night light. “Watch yer mouth, kid, and hand ya money over unless you wanna miss a few digits.” The second thief growls, their voice is higher pitched and squeaky in comparison to the first voice.

I pinch my brow in annoyance but where usually I wouldn’t feel incredibly concerned I find my heart thundering in my chest, and I realize it’s because Asra is with me. He’s an inch or so shorter than me, and I’m keenly aware of how vulnerable he is in this moment. Suddenly compelled to protect him I seize Asra’s wrist beside me with my other hand to keep him close behind me as I look from one bandit to the other, “You’ve  _ really  _ picked the wrong person to try and rob. I’m only warning you once.” 

To my surprise Asra responds to my touch actively. I feel a sudden pour of energy, flickering from deep within him and flowing into me like a pitcher of water being poured into another. When I look back at him he meets my gaze evenly and he speaks with a low, dangerous voice, “Leave us alone, we don’t want any trouble.” 

“Don’t make this ugly, now.” The first robber snarls, taking a threatening step towards Asra behind me. 

_ I said I’d only warn you once. _

I don’t give them another chance to act - after the lovely evening I’ve had the last thing I want is for it to be ruined by some stupid robbers. If I were with anyone else, I wouldn’t do what I’m about to, but after hearing Asra talking about magic, I know that whatever I do won’t come as a shock or horrifying sight… Wouldn’t make him afraid of me. 

So I pull on the power wellspring I keep buried within me and step right back in the bandit’s face, releasing Asra as I do so to emerge fully into the moonlight. I shift the structure of my face into the first terrifying creature I can think of: a wolf. I feel fur spout from my face and my teeth elongate, my bones rearrange themselves in a painful manner but I’ve done it often enough that it’s nothing I’m not used to. I add the effect with black smoke, it requires additional energy and focus but the result is satisfying; stepping into the moonlight with a feral snarl and the face of a wolf, blackness falling from me like the night itself clings to me causes the bandit to scream and stumble back in terror, dropping their knife all together as they do so. 

I whirl around towards the second right and they too stumble back in fear, but instead of running away they swing at me with their blade. I barely dodge in time right as I hear Asra grunt in exertion behind me, I glance back briefly to see a stream of water from Asra’s outstretched hands slapping the knife out of the thief’s hands when they attempt to recollect it and hurl it into the gutter. The thief in front of me lashes out again and this time as I duck I feel a sharp sting across my bicep. I focus the shifting power into my hands to allow claws to elongate from my fingertips, black fur sprouting up my forearms as I shape myself partially into the wolf’s form, it only takes a few seconds. As the thief recovers from their attack I lash out and slash them in the side, I feel wetness cling to my clawed fingertips as I hit my mark and immediately they howl in pain and stumble back, hitting the cobblestones hard. Their compatriot rounds me and grabs up their friend, they gasp in pain and terror as they’re dragged away by the other, who spares me only one last terrified look before they disappear into an alley and out of sight. 

I close my eyes and sigh, running a clawed hand, the hand that I feel is not sticky with blood, along my face and then down my black hair to return back to my true shape. As I slide my hand, now furless and a little shaky, down my braid down my back and over my shoulder I turn towards Asra and balk when I see his expression, wide eyed and absolutely terrified where he stands stock still where I’d left him.  _ Oh.  _

_ Oh no.  _

I swallow nervously, shifting my gaze away as I murmur with a shamed frame in my shoulders, “I’m sorry if I scared you. I was just trying to drive them away…”

Asra’s eyes are still wide, but the fear in them seems to bleed away, replaced instead with something else, like curiosity, surprise. “... Jamie, are you okay?” He murmurs, taking a step towards me.

Instinctively I take a step back, which prompts him to stop his advance and instead hover a foot away from me. I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, flickering my gaze to the side sheepishly, “Sorry. I…” I clear my throat and look at him with a more serious look, “Are  _ you _ alright?”

He nods briskly, which helps to alleviate the anxiety in my shoulders before he continues with a furrow set in his brow, “You’re hurt.” He gestures towards my arm and when I follow the look I see that the bandit had managed to cut into the upper part of my bicep, though it doesn’t look too bad, I’ve certainly had worse. “Will you let me help you?” Asra’s voice is gentle like a sea breeze, when I look up at him I see his hands are extended towards me but not moving, instead he waits with them hovering in the air. 

I’m not sure why, but my chest feels suddenly very, very warm. Slowly I nod, clearing my throat but otherwise not moving as I slightly hug my elbow to my chest, watching him cautiously. Asra approaches and examines the cut, I wonder if he has bandages in that bag of his before he rests his hand overtop the wound. I feel his energy then, surging like the lap of warm water into his palms and onto my skin, which begins to tingle and come to life in a way I’ve never experienced before. When he pulls his hand away, the cut is gone. Vanished, without a trace. The only hint that there was a wound there at all is the slashed hole in my tunic. 

I blink with wide eyes, stunned into silence before I look at him with that same, strange warmth from within my chest reaches my fingertips. “Thank you.” I murmur.

Asra chuckles in a light hearted manner, so strange considering how terrified he looked just a minute ago when he was staring at me, and I wonder if perhaps he’s able to hide how he’s truly feeling better than I had anticipated. “You’re quite the force of nature, taking those two on.” He almost sounds like he’s admiring the feat, which makes my head muddle in confusion. When his eyes like cosmic dust land back on mine I can see the questions sparking in them, I mentally prepare myself as he speaks again with a fascinated tone, “I’ve never seen magic like that before. That wasn’t a simple illusion spell. You… changed your form entirely.” Asra furrows his brows as he examines my features, after a brief pause he flashes me a slight smile, dazzling even in the dim moonlight, “You’re gonna have to tell me how you did that sometime.” 

The lightning dancing under my skin seems to ease with the sight of his teeth, I let out a slightly relieved sigh but before I allow myself to get too excited I ask cautiously, “I… didn’t scare you?” 

Asra shakes his head, and this time I allow the relief to seize me entirely and release the tension in my fists. “Of course not. That was amazing, why would that scare me?” 

I don’t know how to answer that, so instead I shake my head and change the subject, “... I’m almost to my place. Are you nearby?” 

Asra watches me for a long moment, inspecting me with a look in his eye that I’m unsure how to decipher before he nods, gesturing up ahead. Wordlessly I fall in beside me to continue walking down the dark streets like nothing at all happened. He even continues to speak to me like before, pointing out how he found a fire salamander in a wood pile on this street once but it ran away when he tried to catch it. I keep looking at him in my peripheral as we walk, even though there’s not too much tension in his shoulders I can’t unsee the fear in his eyes when I turned towards him after I shifted.  _ He’s a wi… magician, but he’s never seen the kind of magic I have? Am I weird even by magic standards?  _

I don’t allow myself to linger on the thought for long, instead allowing myself to enjoy his company while it lasts. I don’t want to speak much, but Asra seems to be willing to fill the silence, speaking in a soft voice like rainfall carried on a breeze that makes the anxiety of the encounter wane little by little as we progress. Through the buildings I can see the sea, and that’s how I know I’m almost back to the apartment I share with my boss, Ksasthra. 

“I used to live right on the docks, when I was younger.” Asra murmurs to me after a moment’s pause, when I look over at him he’s looking down the thin, downturning alleyway that leads to the sea. “It was my safe haven away from everything, the kid gangs and the guards… When I’m going home sometimes I accidentally forget where I’m going and wind up there instead of the back room I glamoured.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him in surprise, about multiple things in those words but I settle on one in particular, “Sorry but… kid gangs?”

Asra glances back at me and although his eyes are distant his chuckle is genuine, “Urchins were a big problem during the war. Some were orphaned because their parents died fighting, but it was mostly a lot of general displacement. So, kids band together around here… and while you would think that would be a good thing, they largely used the ‘power’ they had over each other to hurt one another instead of help.” Asra’s gaze darkens a little bit more, or it could just be the shadow of the night, before he shrugs his shoulders and looks away, “Though I made a great friend because of one of those gangs.”

“Every cloud has its silver lining as they say.” I murmur softly in response. Internally I’m dancing with questions; I know that typically it’s normal for people to be raised by their parents, so I want to know what happened that led for this to be impossible for Asra. He doesn’t behave at all to me like someone who grew up with a difficult life, his smile is too gentle and his hands are too soft, but I also have a feeling that the Asra I see before me is far more nuanced and layered than I can see. I want to delve deeper, explore these layers, get to know them… get to know him. I don’t want this to be the last time I see him. 

Next time I blink we come across my small apartment, a doorway in a thin alleyway just a block away from the dock. “Here I am.” I murmur, stopping just in front of it. 

Asra stops as well, looking up at the front of the buildings clay surface before he turns back towards me with a lilac light dancing in his eyes, “I’m just a few streets away from here. I hadn’t known you were so close.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him with amusement before I chuckle, “Call it a happy accident.” I look down the street to ensure we’re alone before I fix him with a genuinely concerned expression, “Get home safe, yeah?” 

“I will.” Asra murmurs with certain level of confidence, smiling at me reassuringly as he does which surprisingly makes me feel rather reassured. He adds on with a humorous aside, “We’ll have to finish up dinner a little earlier next time.” 

I can’t help but allow my breath to hitch a little.  _ Next time. He wants to do this again.  _ Immediately I beam at him brightly, filled with instant soars of joy like an eagle taking flight in my heart. “I suppose we will.” 

We both hesitate for a long time in my doorway. He’s looking at me with a strange gaze that I’m unsure what it means or why he’s giving me such a look, and though I don’t want our time together to be over already I don’t want to keep him out too late. So, I clear my throat and step into the doorway, producing a key and unlocking it before I turn towards him again, “Er… Thank you for the bread. And sorry again for breaking your stall door.” 

Asra smiles at me and responds with an amicable chuckle, “It’s no trouble. You can come through it the normal way next time.” 

“I think I will.” I murmur.  _ Another next time.  _ We hesitate some more. Staring at each other. My hand is on the doorknob.  _ I need to go, I don’t want to keep him out late, it’s dangerous.  _ “Goodnight, Asra.” I finally say with an unwilling voice, tearing my gaze away from his to finally head into my home. 

I see him wave out of my peripheral and right as I’m closing the door I hear him answer with a soft, honeyed voice, “Goodnight, Jamie.” 

The darkness of my home is complete, the silence deafening. I stare at the closed door for a long time, my heart hammering in my throat. Ksasthra sleeps in the room on the far side of this hall, he sounds as if he’d been asleep for a while based on the level of his snores. 

When I first came to the city, I was homeless for about a week. I didn’t have money, I didn’t have a job, I had some stolen money from… before leftover but soon it ran out and I was starving. But then Ksasthra saw me. I had snuck into the theatre one night to watch a performance - I was curious and acting a little reckless - and he saw me, but didn’t stop me. After the performance he asked to see my ticket, but I couldn’t provide one and knew I was caught… but he didn’t punish me. He told me that he had taken one look at me and knew I was a hard worker, and decided to hire me as a stage hand. He took me out for food and asked me questions a lot like Asra had, and essentially took me under his wing. From where I stand right now, I owe everything to him; he gave me a place to stay, he gave me the job at the theatre… I wouldn’t have been able to stay in Vesuvia for this long without him. Makes me wonder if I would’ve gotten recruited by these kid gangs Asra mentioned if I hadn’t met him.

My heartbeat continues to pulse and thunder like a clanging bell as I go about getting ready for bed, lighting the candle next to my bed in the far corner, rinsing and then scrubbing the dried blood off of my fingertips,  _ disgusting, _ rinsing my body, unbraiding my hair and letting it hang heavy down past my shoulders as I collapse into bed. Warmth pervades throughout my body but particularly in my face and chest as I look back on the evening. This strangely delightful magician that just happened to waltz into my life… well, more like I fell into his. That interaction could’ve gone in a hundred different manners… but it went in this one instead. 

I fall asleep with a smile on my face, wondering to myself in what situation I’ll find myself seeing Asra the fortune teller next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Jamie refers to Asra as "the boy" And a little more gendered language at the beginning - I really want everyone to know this is an intentional choice for several reasons. Asra is canon non binary in this piece, but Jamie doesn't know that as of yet; how the 2 view gender in someone they just met is different and that difference will show up in comparison to next chapter. Jamie doesn't see a man or woman unless their cisness is painfully obvious, he sees someone who is "masculine", "feminine" Or "androgynous" Presenting. Based on his evaluation of presentation, he uses the pronouns and gendered language appropriately or so he thinks. On the other hand Asra I think sees everyone as a they/them until proven otherwise bc he is the "gender is fake" royal like that. Jamie will discover quickly very soon that Asra is not a boy, but he does not realize that initially on meeting him. I also out of canon wanted to emphasize on their initial ages more, as they are teenagers on meeting. So, plz forgive me and Jamie for that blunder, but he learns quickly that Asra's our he/they supreme genderfucker amirite  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Stick around for more pining


	2. The Hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been three days since Jamie fell through his stall door, thanks to the Seventh Princess of Prakra’s arrival, and for three days Asra’s thoughts have been surprisingly preoccupied with the short encounter they shared. His only regret is that he didn't ask for a second occasion to see the other again... he didn't even get a chance to ask them what pronouns they preferred.  
> But that wasn't the last time that Asra would see them again, but the second instance may come quicker than he thought.  
> Asra could use some guidance from an old friend.

Asra leans against the counter of his stand, peering out onto the bustling street as the morning sun warms the scarlet cloth hanging over his head, shrouding him and casting his wares in long shadows. People are aggressively selling pottery just a few stalls away from him, his sidelong neighbors both getting significant attention because of their new stock items. Occasionally they bleed a few customers over to Asra’s stall, usually out of curiosity until Asra’s natural charisma would rope them in for a purchase or reading. The pouch of coin under the wooden front is already feeling hefty, but despite his success so far Asra keeps finding himself getting preoccupied looking for a particular face among the crowd. 

He tries not to let himself get too distracted with it, however, as he has tarot readings, charms, and masks to sell. He’d awoken earlier than usual this morning and decided that he should sell the last of the masks he made with Muriel, as the Masquerade is barely three days away from now… though in truth, he’s hoping for a chance of a repeat to the _accident._

The accident… Just thinking about it brings a sudden, giddy smile to Asra’s face. _Accident_ isn’t quite the right word, but he can’t quite think of anything better for it. It was a happy accident, for certain. He can’t linger on the thought too long, however, as another customer approaches his stall with an interested light in their eyes, the way their gaze lingers on the last of Muriel’s wooden masks, Asra can tell he can sell them a few charms if he plays it up just right… if he could keep himself from getting too distracted.

It’s been three days since Jamie fell through his stall door, thanks to the Seventh Princess of Prakra’s arrival, and for three days Asra’s thoughts have been surprisingly absorbed in the short encounter they shared. It’s very nearly consumed him, the memory of them; their gilded gaze like sunlight that heated Asra’s skin and burrowed into his soul is what he sees when he closes his eyes at night, and the slight roughness of their hands on his are what he feels when the morning light shines on his pillows. It’s rare that a person would leave such a lasting impression on Asra, but he finds himself lingering over their memory like his tongue lingers on the taste of Selasi’s pumpkin bread, and he doesn’t think it’s because they’re a stranger to Vesuvia.

The customer walks away with a the mask and a protection charm, both Muriel-made, leaving Asra a few coins richer than before. He’s excited to tell Muriel that the last of his masks are sold out, though a small part of him is a little saddened that they are because now he doesn’t have as much of an excuse to stay in the stall, at least in regards to all the other tasks he needs to accomplish. He needs to go foraging for basics, rather badly as his stockpile is getting low, but he kept trying to convince himself, and Faust, that he was really only trying to sell the last of the masks he and Muriel made but in reality… he was just hoping to see that beautiful stranger again. Jamie. The kid with a stonier face than even Muriel’s.

Faust curls around his bicep, shifting to look at him when she feels the discourse of his thoughts but doesn’t say anything to him besides to wind herself tighter into his tunic, seeking his natural warmth. 

It’s been several hours, though, and there’s been no sign of them, like there’s been no sign of them for the past three days. There’s no way for Asra to find them naturally at this rate, the city is large and it already took months for them to run into one another the first time that each day Asra is worried that it may have been the last. It’s not like he can just show up at their door… could he? No, no… that would be too strange. Not even under the pretense of checking in on the injury he sustained. He doesn’t want to be weird or creepy, or worse annoying. 

Sighing and knowing that he can’t wait on his chores any longer, Asra sits on the stool in the stall and sets out a sign showing that his stall is closed before opening his bag to eat some lunch, some fruit and nuts he stowed in his bag. Once he’s finished eating he’ll head back to his “storage unit,” get those orange birch boletes for Muriel, then head out into the forest. 

Out of the corner of his eye he spots movement as someone approaches the stall. A pair of pale arms rest on the wooden surface and as Asra looks up from his bag he speaks with a low voice, “Sorry, I’m closing-” As soon as his eyes lock on the person before him his voice dies in his throat. 

Jamie looks back at him where they stand with their elbows on the stall counter with a raised eyebrow. With a slightly bemused and friendly chuckle they tilt their head and respond with a crackling voice like a fire, the sound of a voice in the midst of dropping, “Sorry, I’m not intruding, am I?” 

Asra’s pulse quickens slightly in his throat as he has to take a simple second to take in the other’s existence. Their hair is a deep black, wound in a loose braid like Muriel’s that hangs just over their shoulder and to their collarbone, not quite yet long enough to keep the strands near their face in the braid. They wear a dark black cloak with a silver moon clasp over their shoulders with the hood up only slightly, just enough to keep those who aren’t looking directly at them from seeing their face, and a dark blue tunic beneath with silver filagree on the fringes. Their gaze enraptures Asra’s attention faster than anything; they’re a deep, vibrant gold like Jamie trapped pure sunlight within their irises. Their hands, clad in fingerless leather gloves, idly brushing close to one of Muriel’s charms but keeping their distance just enough that they don’t actually touch them. It’s strange to see someone so pale in the city, there are only a few people Asra can think of who have skin like this and they’re not native either, but rather come from Nevivon or elsewhere south. Asra remembers that Jamie mentioned he came from the north, the northeast. _Very far northeast_ in fact. Asra’s never been past the mountains in that area, he only went up to their base a few times looking for wintergrasp… 

He’s been silent for too long. Asra pulls a charmed smile across his features as he turns his undivided attention to the other, “Not at all. In fact… I’m quite open for your business.” 

Jamie chuckles again, eliciting a smile that makes Asra’s breath tremor as they raise an eyebrow down at the small collection of items spread before them, “Oh? Your sign doesn’t think so.” They tap on it with a gentle forefinger. 

Asra smirks slightly, fixing the other with a playful light dancing in his lavender eyes, “But I have another sign here…” He gestures to his chest, drawing Jamie’s gaze there as he continues with a low voice, “That says my door is always open for you.” 

Jamie’s cheeks suddenly ignite in pink, they clear their throat and snap their gaze back to Asra’s so dizzyingly quick that he almost would’ve floundered if he hadn’t spent so long preparing himself for meeting such an intense gaze. “I see.” Jamie mutters with a slight hint of embarrassment that sends delicious licks of contentment up Asra’s spine.

Now, he realizes, is Asra’s chance to ask one of the questions that have been plaguing him. “Jamie,” He begins as he rests his own elbows on the wooden stall, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what pronouns do you use?” 

Jamie blinks at him momentarily with a dumbfounded expression before their shoulders relax, shuffling so that their body is pressed against the opposite side of his stall’s display surface, “He and his. May I ask for yours? I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked you this far sooner…” 

Asra shrugs idly and waves at Jamie casually, “It’s no trouble. I prefer he and his as well, but I also don't mind they and them. I’m glad I know, now, for future reference.” 

“Me, too.” Jamie murmurs with what Asra could almost swear is a fond tone, or maybe he’s just wishing it is so, as he leans on his stall a little closer when someone passes behind him. Jamie fixes Asra with those penetrating eyes again, making Asra’s breath slightly catch, “You didn’t have to move stalls because I broke the door, did you?” 

Shaking his head quickly Asra gestures idly toward the other bustling stalls around them, “No no, we change locations based on a first come-first serve basis, though there is a bit of a hierarchy. It’s the storefronts up a level that are permanent.” 

Jamie’s lips form an o as he looks from stall to stall, “I see! What an interesting system.” He looks back down at the counter and then at Asra, something like shyness causing him to pull on the cowl of his cloak a little closer to his mouth as he murmurs, “Have you finished for the day so soon?” 

Asra wants to say _yes, now I have plenty of time to spend with you_ but as he remembers his to-do list he knows he simply can’t put off foraging any longer. So instead he nods as he stands upright from his stool, “I’ve sold the last of my friend’s masks, but I have to go hunting for more ingredients for my potions and charms.” Suddenly, an idea strikes him. He tilts his head to the side as his gaze flits down the street, seeing how the movement draws Jamie’s eye to him he murmurs in an intimate voice, like it’s just the two of them on the bustling market corner, “If you’d like to come, I’d enjoy your company. I could show you all the spots, how to craft a charm or two for yourself…?”

Jamie blinks in surprise, his golden eyes flown wide as he verbally stammers a little, “You’d show me that? Wouldn’t that… what about the charms you’re selling?” 

Asra chuckles with a bemused curve of his hips, “I’m willing to give out trade secrets. Between friends, of course.” He raises an eyebrow to send the point home, to make the adventure sound as tantalizing as he hopes it is. He can feel Faust slithering across his shoulders beneath his overcoat with excitement at the prospect, he can feel her thinking like her thoughts are his own, _“Friends in the forest!”_

Jamie smiles, then frowns, then pinches his brow, and then finally lets out a heaving sigh as his shoulders sink an inch or two lower. “I would love to. I truly would… but I should really be getting to work. I’ll be late enough as it is.” He glances down the street for a brief moment with a look of loss in his eyes that Asra thinks may just be imprinted on his soul before the gold hues meet Asra’s mauve ones, “But I’m glad I finally was able to catch you. I wanted to give you these, first.” 

He fishes within his bag and pulls out two thin strips of thick parchment, sliding them across the counter. Asra picks them up and inspects them curiously. There is an interesting design around the edges and words printed in the middle with an image of a man with a donkey head. Asra’s seen it on flyers around town, advertising for a performance happening at the community theater to kick off the Masquerade. On this strip of paper, he sees now that it says three days from now, and an _ADMIT: ONE_ stamped beneath it. 

“I get tickets for the exclusive performances as… um… a part of my job.” Jamie begins to explain, between his words he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, “I will already be there… you know… working. But I figured maybe… if you wanted to come see the show with a friend or something…” He pauses and rubs the back of his neck, his cowl falling slightly to reveal more of his raven hair as he glances up at Asra shyly, “Then maybe… if you wanted… I could see you afterwards? And we could…” He trails off, too embarrassed apparently to continue as his entire face rivals the color of cherries. 

Asra’s heart sings in his chest immediately at the prospect. Faust feels it and responds in kind, lifting her head from where she’d ended up in his collar to peer over at Jamie with an excited pulse through his thoughts, _“Friend?”_ Asra glances at her with a shushing look, even though he knows that Jamie can’t hear her, he doesn’t want to be revealed so easily. He takes the two tickets and tucks them securely in his satchel before he turns to smile at Jamie, “I would love to come, and I have just the friend to invite.” 

“Excellent!” Jamie beams back at him with such vibrancy it’s like he’s reincarnated as the sun itself. Behind him someone with a large packages hitches past and forces him to press closer, leaning over the counter so that they can pass, and Asra’s heart lurches into his throat when he sees just how close he grows, close enough that he can catch a whiff of his scent from his hair - sandalwood, and a touch of cinnamon.

When he pulls away their eyes linger in contact for a long moment before Jamie disrupts the spell, blinking as he looks off shyly down the street, “Err… I should really get going… but I’ll see you at the performance?”

Asra nods, his hand hovering over his bag clutching onto the strap just a little harder than normal, “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

Jamie smiles at him again and Asra has to focus on keeping his heart rate at a normal level as the other peels off, returning to the flow of the crowd down the marketplace. Eventually Asra loses sight of him through the colorful mirage of people, but he can still see him behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes, smiling at him with sunflower joy. 

… 

_‘Mugwort. Wolfsbane. Blue Sage. Eye of Newt. Valerian. Marshmallow Root. Rue.’ Anything else?_

Asra regards the list in his hand with furrowed brows as he does a secondary sweep of his meager inventory. Most of these he can acquire on the fringes of the forest most fortunately, but the river thyme may not be ready to harvest yet. Nonetheless he wants to check, he could really use the restock, he has been needing it for weeks. 

He all but floats through the small, cozy abode with that heady smile playing his lips. This space functions mostly as a storage unit for his potions and charms, though more often than not, especially when he finds himself in the city after dark, he ends up staying here, he has a small bed set up in the corner that’s more a pile of blankets and pillows than anything else. The small place is barely enough to house it all, but it’s the best he can expect in the city for free, as technically he is squatting. Usually Asra stays with Muriel in the forest, but if his business continues to expand at this rate he’ll need a more substantial shop and more of his attention devoted to it… but for now, this works for him. Even more so now that he knows that it’s but a few turns away from Jamie’s front door. 

He smiles again before he looks back down at the list, half-scolding himself for getting mentally distracted from his chores but without any true fire behind it. He’s been needing to go out and fetch more ingredients for days now, but he kept staving it off so he could stand in his stall instead and oh, he’s so glad he did. He didn’t think he’d be so lucky to see Jamie again but by his shock Jamie found _him._ At his own volition! 

Asra simply could not believe his luck. 

He touches the two tickets to the performance, poised and ready on the small night stand next to his unmade bed with a fond smile. Their night went well enough that Jamie wanted to see Asra again… 

And Asra’s excited. Truly, _incredibly_ excited. He idly wonders what is it about Jamie that allures him so, and he finds himself smiling just at the possible conclusions. With a half-remembered thought Asra snatches up the orange birch boletes he just cooked from the tiny stovetop in the middle of the room and wraps them in cloth, placing them inside his bag - for Muriel later today. As he lifts his bag onto his shoulder his line of thought is interrupted when Faust lifts her head from where she was sunning herself on the windowsill, the only window in the whole abode, on top of a small pile of sweaters that Asra knit for her. Her voice carries into his thoughts just like his own would travel, her head tilting as she rouses herself, _“Adventure?”_

“Just gathering some reagents. Then we should see Muriel while we’re out.” Asra hums as he extends a hand to her. 

With an excited bob of her head Faust’s thoughts echo, _“Big friend!”_ as she winds her body across his arms and onto his shoulders. From there she burrows herself into his tunic and scarves, making herself at home among the folds of his clothes. While chuckling at her Asra gathers his list at hand, doing one more sweep of the room before he emerges from within, stepping onto the cobblestones outside his front door. 

The streets aren’t very active at the moment Asra locks his door, casting a protective spell on top of the door’s smoothed wood for an added measure and a dash of illusion to make it seem as uninhabited as he found it. As he starts to head toward the fringes of the city he is about to take a slight detour, the same detour he’s been taking for the past three days in hope that he would run into the alluring stranger, but knowing that he’s at work by now allows for Asra to take the direct route out of the city instead. 

The world feels perfect in this moment to Asra, the warmth of the afternoon sun is just right, the sea breeze hugs him tightly like a warm blanket, nothing could bring him down from the high he rides knowing that he’ll be seeing Jamie again. _And_ that Jamie wants to see _him._ As he looks on sunbeams cast through a shallow alleyway he can’t help but think that that is the exact color of Jamie’s eyes; shimmering, golden, alive and burning like the core of a flame. 

As he winds through the streets towards the outskirts he finds himself wondering how this outing would be different if Jamie had been able to join him. Of course he understands he has to make his own living somehow, but Asra’s imagination is nothing if not immersive. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to traverse through the woods with him? Show him where each herb comes from, watch his face alight with interest, perhaps he’d even know interesting spots to sit and have a picnic… If not, then Asra certainly does: that clearing in the oak tree cluster with the protective runestone he placed with Muriel something like… two years ago, now. Maybe three. 

Eventually Asra breaks the city proper and ahead he spies the treeline, murky greens mixing with shallow golds from the sunlight passing through the towering tree limbs. As he enters the forest he starts to scan each leaf and stem, checking the usual favorite spots for the herbs he seeks while occasionally checking his list on the stray scrap of paper to ensure that yes, he does need more mugwort. 

Even as he is preoccupied searching for the herbs his thoughts can’t stop floating back to their second fated meeting. How lucky Asra was that Jamie had been able to find him. Had he been looking for him all this time? He assumes as such, after his comment about the stall, and how he’d been meaning to give him the tickets. It’s certainly no fault of his that he doesn’t know the stall system, being a newcomer to the city, though Asra can’t imagine how confusing it must have been for him the second time he tried to buy groceries. 

He kneels down to harvest some valerian as his thoughts continue to wander to and fro, dancing between daydream and reality, ponderings of the future and wonders of the past. Whether this will be enough rue for the persistence charms. Whether Jamie’s favorite color is blue or if it’s a happy accident he had been wearing blue both times that Asra has seen him. Who was asking for the protection charms again? Why did Jamie come to Vesuvia? Does he have a family? Is he an orphan like so many other people their age often are? Where did he go in his life that led him to have the behavior he has towards magic?

He’s getting carried away. He completely missed a substantial sprig of marshmallow on the brooke bed without realizing it. He bends down and gingerly harvests its roots, wrapping it in a shred of cloth and packaging it in his bag before continuing onward. He supposes he shouldn’t assign such meaning and potential to Jamie’s character so swiftly. After all, they only had one dinner together… and what a _travesty_ that it is only _one_ . Asra wants to see him again, more than just because he found his company charming but to see whether his hype was just the enchantment of their first meeting or if he truly is something to be in awe of. Asra thinks (and hopes) that it’s the former, but he doesn’t want to get too excited just yet. But he allows himself to get a _little_ enthusiastic about getting to know Jamie better… as a treat. 

By now the sun has begun to dip lower in the sky, dappling the leaves in hues of orange and gold and shrouding longer shadows off of the boughs of the trees like curtains. Asra didn’t think he had been out for this long, but with where his thoughts have been he isn’t necessarily surprised that the day had slipped away so quickly. One part of Asra wants to rush back to the city and perchance spy the dark-haired stranger in the process but he also hasn’t seen Muriel in some time, directly because he had been doing such. He’s already in the area, and he already has the boletes… and now, Asra has a very important question to ask him. 

Faust nuzzles her head into his shoulder as Asra picks his way through the familiar path towards Muriel’s home, not often walked and hidden in the depths of the forest it takes until the skies and tree branches have truly begun to reflect gilded emeralds for Asra to make it to the hut. 

It’s a project that the pair had begun when the weather began to turn away from winter earlier that year, and it was getting close to finished. It’s small but tall, constructed from stolen stones that Asra helped to gather and bring here beneath the twisting knots of a birch tree, the gray, gnarled roots creeping across the stone thanks to the help of both of their magics to encourage it to do so. Wooden protective charms hang on along one end of the stone, and one on a tree branch next to the fire pile, and idly Asra wonders what Muriel is protecting himself from. He raps on the wooden door once he’s arrived, calling out within, “Hey Muriel, it’s me!” There’s no response within, not that Asra is expecting any, so he opens the door once he’s adequately announced himself and slips inside. 

Muriel’s hut is cozy, the half-finished firepit on the far wall roaring and illuminating the single room with a soft flamelight. Bits of whitened roots hang far over Asra’s head, peeking through the earthy clay they pat down (or rather up) and fired to make the roof just last week. A new-looking pile of furs sit on the far right side of the room, the small table close to the door has an empty plate and the stool next to it is covered with a curing fox’s pelt. However what draws Asra’s eye is the massive frame sitting on the fur-covered bed pressed on the left wall. He meets Asra’s eye under a shroud of long, dark, messy hair in a haphazard braid, a huge, black shawl hugging his large shoulders like a bear sits on the bed rather than a man; while he’s sitting down Asra’s perfectly at eye-level with him. The pile of shavings by his feet show that he was working on a wood carving, it has no shape yet, but it will soon under his large, diligent hands. Even though Muriel is no older than Asra, he is _massive,_ definitely taller than most grown men he’s met, and perhaps even has more yet to grow. 

“Hey Muriel.” Asra beams, setting down a wrapped cloth from within his bag onto the small table, “I brought you some orange birch boletes.” He’d cooked the mushrooms this afternoon in preparation for this trip, knowing how much Muriel enjoyed them and not wanting to just show up to his hut unannounced without something to give in return… especially since he hasn’t been coming home in the past three days like he usually does.

Within Asra’s scarf the familiar internally beams, responding with a humming _“Big friend!”_ in his thoughts as she raises her head to look at Muriel with the warmth that Asra feels in his chest.

Muriel makes a noise of acknowledgement, when Asra looks up he sees the other stand up and make his way over, lumbering as he peers down at the mushrooms within the colorful cloth. He stands a good head and shoulders taller than Asra, who isn’t short, but they’d kept this in account when they’d built the hut with such a tall ceiling, expecting Muriel to become the giant he is becoming. Muriel reaches down and plucks one of the boletes with a thumb and forefinger, the mushroom the size of Asra’s palm looks like a cherry in his hand as he pops it into his mouth with an appreciative hum. “... Thanks.” He rumbles, his voice deep and thick like the echo of trees. An early bloomer physically, but less so in other respects, Asra’s father would say.

“How have you been?” Asra murmurs, sitting down on the bed where Muriel once was. Many of these pelts are ones he helped Muriel to make, it was a joint effort on their part to get this place set up for him. The reason why he lives so far away is because Muriel despises the city, hates the crowds of people. After living together so long on the dock shores, they started working to get some funds to construct this hut. Though Asra had no qualms living in the city, he ended up living with him in some manners, though he travels far too often to make as much of a permanent place for himself here, hence why he sees it as _Muriel’s_ hut rather than _their_ hut. 

As Asra thinks of it, he remembers that Muriel has always wanted to be away from people, ever since he met him about… eight years prior now… which was also around the time the city got its new count. They were both just kids, abandoned in the city streets, though Muriel never told Asra how he ended up there he never wanted to press him on it, instead deciding to be the friend he thought Muriel needed. And although he would never admit it, eventually Muriel warmed up to Asra as well, and it became a mutual, warm friendship that they both appreciated. 

Muriel shoots him a look out of the corner of his murky green eyes as he eats another mushroom, replying after a moment, “I’m fine.” Before Asra can try to interrogate more of an answer out of him his rumbly voice turns his attention away instead, “You haven’t come here in a while.” 

Asra flashes him an apologetic expression and fishes out some food from his own satchel, a piece of somewhat stale bread, as he sighs, “I’m sorry about that. I’ve been busy trying to sell the last of those masks before the Masquerade… People really loved the wooden ones you made.” Muriel grunts in acknowledgement and to Asra’s pleasure he notices a deep crimson flaring in his high cheekbones at the slightly roundabout compliment. Asra’s lavender eyes flicker and move far away as a slight smile teases the corner of his lips, after a moment he hums, “... I also may have met someone.” 

Muriel gives him a quietly incredulous look as he chews, “... You meet people everyday.” 

Asra giggles softly and waves a hand at Muriel idly, “This was not just your everyday meeting. This one was special. There’s _something_ special about him.” Muriel doesn’t respond except to grunt to acknowledge that he heard Asra, continuing to make his way through the supply of cooked boletes. Unprompted, Asra continues with a slightly dreamy voice, “His name is Jamie. He… I think it was fate, Muriel. He accidentally fell into my stall, you see, the Seventh Princess of Prakra had arrived for the Masquerade and he got pushed into my stall to avoid the carriage and…” Asra’s smile broadens and glimmers in the low light of the room, “He was so cute, he got all blushy and embarrassed-”

Suddenly Asra pauses and gasps, only slightly startling Muriel as he sets down his bread, “Oh! And I forgot the best part of how we met!” Asra shuffles through the pockets in his trousers. Faust untangles herself from his body now that he’s sedentary and instead rests on Muriel’s bedspread as Asra produces his tarot deck. As he picks his way through each card he speaks with an excited tone to his largely indifferent friend, “He picked up one of my herbs - he accidentally knocked all of the supplies off the counter - but he’d grabbed a rose petal, and then the Fool from the ground.” He produces the card in question, showing it to Muriel for him to see. 

Asra painted the deck just under a month ago after the cheap set he had before got washed away in a heavy rain. It took him a month to figure out how to represent best his perception each of the Major Arcana… the Magician was particularly helpful in this… but it was well worth the time spent. The Fool’s card depicts a craggy stone ledge opening out to a field, golden sunbeams cutting down from above with a 0 at the bottom center. It’s the only one of the twenty two Major Arcana that Asra was unable to pin a face to. Though it depends on the circumstances, typically the Fool appearing in a reading means innocence or freedom, but also spontaneity and a new beginning.

With such a movement, Muriel’s green hues slide across the card, lingering for a minute and then flicker to Asra’s in search of meaning to the flourishing gesture.

Asra remembers seeing the card in Jamie’s hands and thinking his heart had stopped, that all time seemed to freeze as the Arcana spoke to him in the wordless words they always use. Even without him touching it he could sense the card’s meaning, it was no mere accident that that was the card that Jamie had randomly selected from the ground… It was no accident that he held it upright with a rose petal in his other hand… it was no accident that Jamie fell into his stall instead of someone else’s. 

Asra’s only had his own personal tarot read by other magicians in rare occasions, as most fortune tellers in the city are disconnected with their magic and thus with the Arcana and cannot give him a reading more accurate than he could give himself, but that moment… that moment felt very much like Jamie was doing a reading for him. Like the Fool was trying to tell him that this was _his_ chance for a beginning. And with the rose petal- what else was it to mean? It had to be fate, it had to be… right? So of course he had to take a risk, ask him to dinner, and _Muriel, could you believe that he said yes?_

This - with flowery language, heart-sick eyes, and giddy smiles - is what Asra tells Muriel as he fawns over the mysterious stranger, how they’d had a charming dinner afterward, how he’d learned a little bit about the other, _did you know they’re from the north? Past the mountains, I think. Oh, and he’s a magician! A powerful one at that, I could feel his magic as soon as I touched him. His aura is so interesting, I’ve never seen anything quite like it._ Then, of course, he told him about how they’d walked home together. Though Muriel was mostly expressionless as he listened, he tensed when Asra mentioned the bandits, he only interrupts him in his spiel then with a husky undertone, “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” 

Asra swiftly shakes his head, causing the tension in Muriel’s shoulders to slightly abate. “No, no. Jamie had them well handled.” Though… Asra’s lips purse as his thoughts slipped down a new route as he continued with a softer voice, “He performed this… strange magic, I can’t right explain it… He could change his shape.” Asra pauses and folds his legs under him, watching his friend with a pensive expression, “Have you ever seen anything like that before?” 

Muriel frowns slightly as he polishes off the last of the boletes, “It wasn’t just an illusion?”

Asra shakes his head again, “No, that’s the thing, it wasn’t anything like an illusion spell. The way his aura moved was wrong- it dug _into_ itself, and then changed _him._ He changed his very facial structure into a wolf’s, and his hands into claws.” Asra pauses, his gaze listing to the side. Something painful tugs on his heart and rears its head from deep within his mind, “He was reluctant to speak of magic, you know. When he did he spoke of it, it was in such a heartbreaking way. I don’t think that he’s ever had any sort of training…” He pauses and folds his hands in his lap, continuing with a soft breath, “It makes me wonder how he learned to cast a spell like that.” Muriel doesn’t answer him, though Asra does not expect him to. After a few beats of silence he continues with a sigh, “I hadn’t seen him since… until this morning.” 

Muriel grunts in response as he stands, his expression is hard to read, “It’s a big city.” 

“It is.” Asra’s shoulders rise as the excitement re-seizes him, smiling at his friend he continues with bubbles rising in his voice, “He said he had been looking for me! He gave me some tickets to one of the performances happening to kick off the Masquerade… do you think that that means he’s interested in me?”

Muriel shrugs without commitment, “Maybe.” 

Asra frowns as his shoulders fall a little again, “He might not be, I suppose. I mean, who am I to him but a stranger?... But he might want that to change. Do you think?”

“... Maybe.”

Asra nods in agreement, growing more resolved in his will, “I suppose I can’t know until the performance happens.” He shoots to his feet with a spritely spring in his step. Muriel’s gaze settles on him and softens amicably, in his friend’s shadow Asra feels warmth solidify and spread through his limbs. With the expression, Asra decides to push his luck, “You should come with me. He gave me two tickets.” He hums with a cheeky look thrown up at his friend.

Muriel immediately frowns at the prospect, turning away and sitting down on his bed where Asra had sat, picking up the carving project he was working on when Asra arrived. Faust boops her nose against his forearm as he works, Muriel pauses so that she can properly investigate him before she shifts to the bedpost, traversing towards Asra as the gentle giant finally grumbles, “... Won’t there be people?” 

Asra nods a little with conceit, holding out an arm for Faust to board him, “Yes, but they will be focused on the performance. No one will even notice you.” 

Muriel’s gaze darkens, and for a moment Asra fears that he’ll outright tell him no but instead he lets out a heavy sigh, “... I’ll think about it.” 

Enthused with the not-a-no, Asra beams at his friend and adjusts his scarf so Faust can situate herself more comfortably, “Alright. I’ll come here for you the day of the performance and you can give me an answer then, okay?” 

Muriel’s gaze is shrouded in the shadows of his hair as he looks at Asra before he mutely nods. Satisfied, Asra raises an eyebrow and situates himself on the bed next to Muriel, “Have you been into the city recently? They’ve started setting up the Masquerade decorations up by the palace…” 

Muriel flushes a little and tenses like Asra just suggested he hurl himself into the sea for fun, but as quickly as the tension rises it abates as Muriel focuses on his task at hand, keeping his great head bowed and away from him. Not answering him except to glare at his hands a little harder.

Internally Asra worries; recently, every time he mentions Muriel coming into the city he tenses up like this and shuts down. He knows that he has bad memories of the streets but this discomfort has only started happening for the last few months. Something must have happened that elicited this reaction. He wants to ask him about it but Muriel is so guarded that he hesitates in confronting him about it… He doesn’t want to drive him away, or drive him further into seclusion in the forest. So, for now, he lets it pass, instead reaching out and giving his friend a tight hug. Muriel seizes as he does before he slowly allows himself to melt into it, his hands stalling in their woodwork. Once satisfied Asra releases him and gives him another smile, “You wanna make some more of those good fortune charms?” 

Together they chat - or, rather, Asra speaks to Muriel and Muriel dutifully listens - as they work to configure some charms. Muriel’s shoulders are utterly relaxed as he works, occasionally muttering a grunt to indicate he’s listening as Asra talks some more about what he’s been up to, what the city’s been like in preparing for the Masquerade… though eventually his line of thought directs back towards the dark haired mystery at the fore-front of his thoughts. His excitement about the performance. _“Do you remember when we would sneak in and watch the performances?” “... I liked the one about the cats.” “I liked that one too.”_

Three days. Asra can wait three days… he’s already done it once, he knows what he’s in for, it’ll be easier knowing that at the end of it he will definitely see the other. If not sooner, if they happen spy each other in the market again, like today. 

As he goes to sleep that night, curled up in bed with Muriel’s great back pressed against his shoulder as they lie in mutual comfort of each other’s presence and Faust curled on top of his chest, he finds his thoughts going straight to daydreams of what the next circumstance will be meeting Jamie, but now there’s more construction to it, more permanence and tangibility with this possibility becoming more of a reality. He wonders if he’ll catch glimpses of Jamie at the performance. He doubts it, as he’s a backstage hand, but anything is possible. Maybe Jamie is a minor performer, and just wanted to downplay his role at the theater? It seems in character for him, he seems like the kind of person who would shy away from acknowledgement. 

After the performance Asra wants to treat him to a job well done. Whether the play is an absolute wreck or a masterpiece, he knows that Jamie will deserve it when he’s finished for the night. Asra will probably be outside in the alley next to the theater after the show with Muriel to avoid the crowds leaving, but once they’re gone they can head back inside, maybe poke around and see what the workplace is like for Jamie. He hopes he enjoys himself there… he’s sure that he has plenty of friends at work, Jamie’s so sweet it’d be impossible for anyone to dislike him. 

Asra hopes that Muriel will want to stick around after the performance, at least to meet Jamie, expand his circles just a little bit, but he also knows his friend and he knows that as soon as the performance is over Muriel will want to leave before the lights go up. Asra will get him to the outskirts, but from there he’d come back and wait for Jamie to be finished working, he’ll probably have the time to kill as it takes time to clean up after a show, he’s sure of it. 

Asra rolls onto his side, disturbing Faust with a languid grumble as she adjusts to curl up against his stomach instead. He thinks that he’ll present some options to Jamie for him to choose. It’ll help show him what sort of things Jamie finds appealing. Go check out the palace, because if he remembers it correctly then there is a lot of sights to see the day before the Masquerade starts, which is the night of this performance (Asra saw the date on the ticket, memorized it within minutes). No doubt there will be street performers there, carnival delights and the like. Or they could go to a pub, Asra knows of one on the upper side that’s a little nicer but he also knows of another, the Rowdy Raven, that’s a little more… debauched, if that’s what Jamie is interested in. Or they could go to the docks and stargaze - the skies are clearest there, and it’s the most abandoned part of the city at that time of night for them to get away from the noise. 

Asra has to admit that no matter what option Jamie will pick he will enjoy the time they spend together. The mental image of Jamie, with Asra, makes his heart feel inexplicably warm and comforted among his nest of blankets and pillows. As he drifts off to the comforts of sleep, he finds that three days may just be a longer wait than he’s ready for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little shorter than usual but it felt right ya know?  
> Did you guys know orange birch boletes are a type of mushroom? And they're real? And they exist? I didn't. I learned a surprising amount about herbs and herbology for this chapter.


	3. The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the past week it’s been absolute chaos at the theatre. It was a miracle that Jamie was able to find Asra three days prior in the main market, the walk to work seemed to be the only break that he had when the market was still open to go looking for him, hoping against hope that Jamie would see Asra in his stall again. He's done his part to invite Asra to spend time together after the performance, and he can freak out about the implications of that later. Right now, he just has to get through the performance.  
> Then, it's time for him to have some fun.  
> -  
> *Warning: physical & mental abuse at the very end, on a scale of 1 (not bad) to 5 (extremely violent), it's a 1*

“Jamie, I need you here.” Adelisa calls, her annoyed voice resonating from the front of the theatre. 

I lift my head from where I was working on the caught rigging of the massive red curtain and relinquish the problem instead to Jeremiah. He gives me a momentary, jealous look but otherwise allows for me to drop back to the floor and make my way over to her, through backstage, through the wing, to the front. All around me all hands are on deck; actors preparing their props and lines and costumes, other stagehands sweeping and preparing the effects for when it comes time for the show in… three hours now, I can see from the posted clock in the back of the house. I take a breath and try not to get excited as I think,  _ and two hours after that…  _

For the past week it’s been absolute chaos at the theatre. It was a miracle that I was able to find Asra three days prior in the main market, the walk to work seemed to be the only break that I had when the market was still open to go looking for him, hoping against hope that I would see Asra in his stall again. I got turned around the first time I went looking because I could’ve sworn that Asra’s stall was there… I saw the still-broken door and everything, but that day it was housed by a rather surly scarf salesman who told me to buy something or leave. Then the next day it was a snake charmer who was… well. Charming?

It was purely a happy accident that I had happened to see the locks of Asra’s fluffy, silver hair beneath the scarlet canopy over the tops of the bustling crowd, he was on the other side of the market from where I’d originally met him. Even more fortunate, by the time I made my way over it was just as Asra was about to leave - to think, I could’ve missed him a third day in a row! 

But I finally gave him the tickets, tickets I had to ask for replacements for the night prior because I’d thumbed them so much I wore a hole in them. 

I know that I had implied to Asra that Ksasthra handed out the tickets to all the workers but… I may have bent the truth about that. I just… I didn’t want Asra to know that I had actually bought them off of Ksasthra after I saw him with the fresh printed tickets. Funds are a little tight so I wanted the gift to seem nonchalant, I wanted to pass it off as offhanded so Asra didn’t think I was trying too hard to get him to… I don’t know. It’s probably silly in hindsight. Though, ever since I gave it to him I’ve felt completely relieved; I’ve done my part to invite Asra, and I can freak out about the implications of that later. Right now, I just have to get through the performance. Then… 

Adelisa, the stage manager, stands with Ksasthra in the main body of the house with a collection of some of the leads, all talking to one another with angry, hushed tones. Adelisa is a short and stout woman with skin like honey, she’s thin and wiry but could probably lift me over her head and snap me like a twig if she wanted to, she has short brown hair cut to her jawline and piercing gray eyes that simmer like coal. Under one arm she has a wooden slate with a bunch of pieces of parchment pinched to the front, lists for actors and their costumes per scene, color coded and time stamped so she knows who needs to be where when. 

Ksasthra is the manager of the theatre, my employer, and current, hospitable roommate. He has very light skin, at least in comparison to most people around Vesuvia, with dark brown almost black eyes that glint like obsidian knives in the low light. His hair is a light, strawberry blond and slicked to a low, short ponytail at the base of his neck, when it’s free from the confines of the rubber band it hangs just over his shoulders. Their attire is dark, just like it must be for everyone save the actors on show night, though Ksasthra bears a pouch hung on his hips and an intricate, dark rose scarf folded around his shoulders. What draws my attention most, however, is the fact that by  _ God,  _ he looks  _ pissed.  _

_ Oh boy.  _

As I move closer, I can pick up snippets of their conversation before they notice my presence. 

_ “-be serious.”  _ Ksasthra snarls, glaring at the actress who is playing Ainatie, the humorous aloof side kick, in the production. “This is the  _ night  _ of the  _ performance.  _ And you’re telling me that Maydia decided that  _ tonight  _ was the night to call in  _ sick?”  _

The actor who plays Lordelon, the friendly fool with a heart of gold who is absolutely nothing like the character they play, peers over Ainatie’s shoulder and shrugs as they stuff one of their costumes in a leather case, “And the backup’s already drunk at the gates of the Castle, guaranteed.”

Ksasthra turns to Adelisa while pinching his brow, I can see his patience is on a fraying tightrope that’s close to snapping. “Can we find them?” 

Lordelon snorts, “On the night before the Masquerade? Doubtful.” The other actors floating around them give them tired glares, prompting them to quantify themself, “What? You all know I’m right.”

Adelisa turns to me once she spots me approaching. Her shoulders are taut and drawn inward towards herself as she speaks with an exhausted voice, “... Jamie, do you have a copy of the script with you?”

I blink, shocked as I enter the conversation, “On opening night? … What’s going on?” 

Ksasthra growls with a bare canine in the low candlelight of the house floor, “The contortionist decided to call in sick on the  _ one night  _ I pay them to be here. The entirety of Act 2 is dependent on their presence, the dialogue reference their dances throughout the whole damn thing!” He pulls out a small notepad and quill from his satchel, writing aggressively with a low growl, “Maydia can consider themself  _ out  _ of the job… Now we’re going to have to change everyone’s lines the night of the production!” 

I remember Maydia’s role clear as day. They don’t have any lines, but they are supposed to waltz in and out of scenes, moving their hips and doing tricks with their body, specifically ones that consist of them hooking their leg over their shoulder or having their calf resting on their shoulder because many of the lines that the actors have afterwards are puns based off of this movement. At least, so I’m given to understand. Not everyone can twist their body in weird shapes after all, it’s supposed to be something marvel, I suppose. I’d seen some people who do that at the circus I was once a part of up north… the reason why I needed to go south and never turn back. 

A thought strikes me. A horrifying thought that I don’t screen even as my mouth starts moving and words start falling out  _ oh God what am I doing-  _ “You just need someone to contort their body, right? I can do that.”

The entirety of the actors stop moving, except for Lordelon who doesn’t even blink as they snort under their breath in derision. Ksasthra’s eyes pin me to the floor and for a moment all is still; I swear this must be what it feels like for a rabbit to lock eyes with a hawk as he cocks an eyebrow, “Can you, now?” 

Adelisa’s voice is far more practical and submitted, “I guess I could try to make a modified dance routine in three hours, but-”

I wave a hand at her, taking a sturdy breath as I prepare myself beneath Ksasthra’s burning gaze, “I know the moves. I’ve been watching them do it on repeat for a month now, I could probably do it from memory.” 

Adelisa raises an eyebrow over at me curiously as Lordelon straightens, noticing the silence they mutter, “... Are you being serious right now?” 

Ksasthra’s eyes don’t move from mine throughout this exchange. Slowly with the return of that mysterious glint they murmur in a low voice, “You  _ probably  _ could do it?” 

I swallow and answer with more confidence that I present but don’t quite feel, “I  _ can  _ .”

“... Then do the first dance.” 

I blink at him stupidly for a solid second before I have the stomach to flicker my gaze to the minimal space around us in the aisle of the house, “N-now, sir?”  _ With everyone watching? _

“No, when the show starts-  _ yes,  _ now!” Ksasthra huffs with little patience, swinging a wide arm outward to the others gathered give me some space. The actors are staring at me, as well as some of the backstage crew now, and it does absolutely nothing but rise the hackles of my nerve endings to an obscene level.  _ Oh God. Oh God. What am I doing? What am I  _ **_doing?_ **

I take another steadying breath as I roll my shoulders, stretching out my joints one at a time. I focus on them, my arms, my legs, my shoulderblades, and with my inner power I will them to become loose and flexible. I open my eyes to make sure that nothing visibly seems to change with everyone’s eyes on me and to my relief nothing looks amiss, even as a low hum of energy shimmers into my limbs. Slowly but surely I settle in a breathing rhythm, stretching from my hands to the ceiling then to my toes. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to do this kind of subtle transformation, but I know that I’m still capable; it’s the same concept as enhancing my strength, which I did all the time when I lived with Master Garmel, and as when I was with the circus. Even though I’m going to try and dance as well… which is  _ definitely  _ not something I’ve done before… but it’s not really a  _ dance  _ per-se, it’s more of a movement of the hips… 

“Thems aren’t the moves.” Lordelon grumbled under their breath. 

I shoot them a glare over the top of my head as I slowly bend backwards to stretch my back, “I haven’t stretched in a while, give me a second!” 

They huff, crossing their arms as they sit in a seat but beyond that it seems the whole of the house is watching with held breath. I have to settle my nerves again with some deep breathing before I fix my gaze down to my hands.  _ I have to be okay with this. Three times as many people will be watching me in a few hours, so I have to be okay with this. Good gods. This is so risky. It’s okay, no one seems to notice, so I should be fine, I should be fine. Okay, the first dance, the first dance, that’s after the first setting change, so that means it starts like this…  _

I let my hands free, moving them in half circles around me while sliding my feet forward, jogging my memory and keeping with the time. There’s a fall here, then a rise up like walking up a ladder here, my steps press and go with a bit of rigidity at first but once I get back into the rhythm it feels a little more natural, more real, and the movement starts to reflect that. It’s natural, it makes sense… I do the first movement, bringing my ankle up to my shoulder from behind my back and while it’s not quite as swift as I would like it to be the collection of actors coalesced in the area gasp nonetheless. 

“Well butter my nuts and call me a honeybun…” Lordelon huffs softly under his breath, granting him a glare from Adelisa. 

I weave forward, only opening my eyes occasionally to see where I’m stepping as I do what I could excuse as a dance, trying to remember and replicate the moves that Maydia performed, dropping to the floor with one leg out in front and the other behind me then to rise up and fold my knee behind my head. It takes a lot more upper body strength than I was ready for but I manage to hold it long enough for it to be natural when I return to normal standing position. It’s surprisingly easy to keep focus on the energy underlying my skin to keep my body loose. 

When I reach the end of the dance and look up, I’m immediately confronted with Ksasthra hovering right next to me. His eyebrows are raised and his expression is neutral if intrigued, I can’t see beyond his broad shoulders as he commands, “Perform the dance from  _ the Song of Jewels,  _ Act 3.”

I frown and look down at my hands, shuffling through the order of the play in my head. I hesitate for too long, as Ksasthra growls low beside me, “Do you remember it or don’t you?” 

“I remember it!” I snap, looking up at him with a frown before I make a gesture, “I don’t know the song names, it just takes me a second to remember what order they’re in, that’s all!” When I meet Ksasthra’s disbelieving gaze I persist with bared teeth, “I  _ can  _ do Maydia’s dances. In order. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t think I could do this.” He cocks an eyebrow at me for my sharp words, so I quickly tack on with a more respectful tone, “... Sir.”

Ksasthra’s expression doesn’t change as his dark gaze flickers across my features until finally he steps back, I can see the starstruck expressions of the actors only for a moment before Ksasthra barks, “Well, what are you waiting for! Practice run, now!” 

The cast scatter like rats released from a trap, Lordelon muttering under their breath something about saying goodbye to that ale waiting for him. 

In the time it takes for each of them to prepare themselves, getting into position on the stage and behind it, Adelisa guides me to where my entrance and exit is for my new role, and giving me a rundown on the precise blocking along the way. I nod and attempt to settle my own nerves by taking calming breaths, my heart is hammering through my chest and into my fingertips resting on my pulse points in my wrists. It doesn’t help that Ksasthra’s hawkish gaze is burning a hole through the curtain, bearing down on me like a baking sun on a hot day. 

When everyone is ready, Ksasthra’s voice says something and the music pit, just to the left of the stage, comes to life. I remember from the hundreds of times we’ve run through this performance that their music indicates the start of the show. I see the muted counting among the actors as they go at their timed queues so I wait, nervously twisting my fingers together and occasionally looking over at Adelisa to make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing. 

As the actors perform, Ksasthra ritualistically stops them and has them redo a scene if he doesn’t like something, or he calls for them to be louder, act more, etc. I have time to stew in my emotions for a little bit, as I don’t appear until Act 2, and in that time Adelisa essentially gives me the fastest dancing crash course I think may have ever been given. Before it’s my turn to go on, however, she gives me a pat and mutters, “When it’s your time to go on, I’ll nod at you. Okay? You got this!” She gives me an encouraging smile as she retreats to the other wing, leaving me with a swallow trapped in my ribcage. Waiting for her to send the signal. 

When she gives me the nod to get on stage, it’s after Ainatie delivers her line, “But people can’t  _ fold,  _ Barnelby!” 

So I quickly take to the stage. I remember when Maydia would bob their head and commence their dance so I follow their lead through my memories, keeping my arms light as I try to replicate their movements. The actors only pause once to look at me, so as to ensure the whole of the audience is watching, before they continue with their lines. “Okay, maybe they can,  _ but- _ ” Ainatie’s methodical voice drifts into the high ceilings elegantly. 

I remember Maydia loiters in the back half of the stage for this part, making more and more flexibly demanding movements so as to enhance the irony of the scene so I do the same. I bend my legs to go over my head, split them on the floor, moving languidly to enunciate on each movement before planting my palms on the ground and letting my back arch and my legs raise over my head, which takes a surprising amount of focus,  _ loose, loose, stay flexible.  _

“Don’t move around so much there, Jamie, keep on that spot!” Ksasthra calls from the front row, nearly making me fall on my face. The actors resume their conversation, and I resume my movements, being more mindful of the placement of my feet. It’s then that I see Adelisa making the  _ come off  _ gesture as Ainatie is wrapping up whatever conversation she’s having that I’ve been too busy straining to listen to. So, I roll off like a wheel to produce the maximum hilarity effect and I think it works, I hear some of the actors snorting backstage as I roll in. Thank God it does work, because the move fucking  _ hurt  _ my knees.

“Good move!” Adelisa whispers with a grin. 

And onward through the practice run of the show, where I make an appearance five more times, doing largely the same thing except once I’m sent straight to the front of the stage according to the blocking, during a dramatic scene change or something along those lines and therefore should be drawing more attention to the awkward angles of my body rather than drawing hilarity from the context of the scene… so says Ksasthra, as he shouts from the front row of the audience at me whenever I’m on. In between times when I’m not on stage I try to do my actual job of helping the other stagehands roll the settings onto the stage in between curtain openings and closings, but it’s difficult; my muscles are sore, and it’s taking a lot of concentration to keep my limbs loose. 

I feel myself mess up several times when I dance, hitting the floor harder than I mean to, slipping on accident, or holding onto positions for a little too long, or once all together missing my queue, and every time Ksasthra would call me out and tell me to focus. But as the practice progresses I move better, smoother, and that’s what matters, the mistakes I make are concentrated in the beginning so that by the time we’re past the first half of the show I’ve reconnected and hit my stride, which makes remembering Maydia’s movements that much easier. But it takes a toll; I never moved so much and for this long and it’s been a while since I maneuvered to such extent, so eventually the practice run turns into an endurance battle so intense that by the time we finish my arms are shaking and my back muscles are numb. 

I’m snapped out of my exhausted thoughts when slow clapping reaches my ears. I wince from strain when I right myself from the back with the collection of all the actors in our final standstill from the last shot of the performance as Ksasthra moves to stand at the front of stage, looking over at each of the actors with a sudden resurgence of light in his eyes before they settle on me. Beyond him, the clapper Adelisa is beaming at me as she cries, “Well, aren’t you just a little blessing in surprise! You guys are gonna do great!”

I feel heat rise in my cheeks, bashfully I wring my hands in my lap to attempt to smooth out the aches in the muscles as the actors relax from their ending positions. Ksasthra moves then and makes his way over to me, and once he’s standing beside me he hums softly with a pensive breath but before he can speak one of the stewards from the back of the house cries, “House opening in ten!” 

I start in surprise,  _ has time really flown that fast,  _ but my thoughts are scrambled when Ksasthra calls out to the stage, addressing the collection of performers and musicians, “Alright, it’s showtime, people! Let’s show Vesuvia what we’ve been working for!” 

There are whoops and hollers as the actors move back stage to prepare for their roles, enthusiasm is high and sparking and tangible. The musicians rise up, taking their instruments with them through the back curtain for last minute tune-ups and practice, so I move toward the curtain to do the job that I was  _ supposed to  _ have been doing, preparing the sets to be rolled out from the beginning again, but before I get far Ksasthra catches my shoulder with a stern hand. “Where are you going?” 

I blink at him and then gesture to the stage, “Don’t you… I mean… I help with the last setup before the-”

He sternly shakes his head, silencing me as he murmurs, “We don’t need another stagehand tonight, we need a dancer. Go get in costume.” He looks at me with a serious expression then, I feel like my boots are being fixed into the floor as he speaks in a low tone, “Don’t make me regret giving you this chance.” 

I shake my head quickly after I clear my throat, “You won’t, sir. I promise.”  _ Should I really be promising that? Gods, what have I gotten myself into…  _

Ksasthra holds my gaze for a few moments longer before he pats my cheek in a strangely rough gesture before he brushes past me to head towards the back of the theatre, towards the doorway where the audience will come in. He barks to Adelisa as he goes, “Get Jamie in a costume before the curtain goes up!” 

She looks at me, looks back at where Ksasthra just left, before she hustles over to me with a growing giggle, scanning my form, “Oh this is gonna be fun.” She guides me towards the back rooms, I duck behind the curtain with her to go hunting for clothes, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. 

…

The wait is agonizing. When I think hours must have passed, only a few minutes have. I peeked through the curtains out of curiosity once and only got a glance of how packed the house is, I saw nothing but bodies in the candlelit space with no distinguishable features. I keep wanting to check again, to see if I can’t spot a dash of fluffy starlight hair in the audience but my nerves are already exponential with the upcoming performance that I’m now suddenly a part of that I can’t risk focusing on that. It’s hard enough not focusing on what I’m  _ wearing  _ for God’s sake, it’s all just borderline too much.  _ Why did I offer to do this? I should’ve at least asked for a commission check or something. This was a terrible decision.  _

The black leotard is tight fitting, one of the last few extras left without holes, and a little short around my wrists and ankles. Adelisa rectified this by tying scarlet strips of cloth around them, making the leotard seem normal length; the cloth is embroidered with golden beads that shimmer like luster in the lantern light. Adelisa draped a deep orange scarf with smooth gold tokens hanging from tassels around my waist, it clinks every time I move which is something I simply do  _ not  _ like, at all, whatsoever, but she insisted it was either this or the cropped top and I refused to wear that - because of my back, but Adelisa doesn’t need to know that - so this was the best viable alternative. The scarlet cloth on my wrists and ankles are also kind of excessive I thought, but she said  _ if we’re showing off your bod then we’re showing off your bod, Jamie, if you won’t let me show skin then at least let me do this.  _

At least I got this mask, I think to myself with a sigh as I weave the silken ribbon under my hair, which Adelisa had curled and braided intricately to hang down my back but arranged out of my face to allow the mask to settle; it’s in the guise of a black wolf with dark red markings that’s supposed to go with the ensemble, Adelisa said that it would be perfect because I’m technically  _ lone wolfing it,  _ though I’m not quite sure what she means by that in this context. I’m not gonna complain about it, because at least with a mask I can hide my face. I let out a heavy sigh and shake my thoughts away, careful to mind the jingle of my  _ stupid  _ costume. I just have to focus on my breath on  _ not messing this up. This was a huge mistake.  _

_ Oh. Asra’s gonna be out there. He’s gonna see me in this. Oh. Oh. Oh gooooooods- No, it’s fine, it’s fine, the mask will keep me hidden, he knows I’m just a backstage hand, no way he’ll recognize me…  _

Suddenly after what feels like centuries Adelisa sticks her head into my quiet division of the backstage. “You’re on!” She whispers to the musicians, who quickly rise and file out into the pit. Adelisa comes back inside once she’s placed them and gives me a reassuring look and a squeeze on the forearm, I look at her right as she speaks to me with a gentle whisper, “You’ve got this, Jamie.” 

I smile at her encouragingly, more for myself than her, before she hurries off to cue the actors into their places for the beginning of Act 1. Behind her the curtain remains slightly askew, so under the pretense of going to fix it I take the opportunity to scan the crowd for a familiar face, for a  _ particular  _ familiar face,  _ please be here, please tell me you came…  _

… but I can’t find him anywhere. I see not hide nor silvery hair of Asra’s head in the crowd, even as I go for a second sweep. While my immediate reaction is disheartened, a part of me wonders if it’s for the best.  _ Best that tonight of all nights that I’m dressed like a chicken strutting across the stage that he couldn’t make it. Though no one will probably know it’s me with the mask…  _

I swallow the immediate panic as the pipe player trills their first tune, signaling the play is about to start, and instead of letting my hands shake I release the anxious energy into twiddles of my thumbs and cracks of my knuckles as I hurry to get in my position. I don’t appear until Act 2, but I still feel like I’m on fire with nerves.  _ Settle down. Settle. Focus. Loose. I am a pliant reed. I am grass. I am worn leather.  _

The introductory notes play and the general noise of the gallery falls to silence as the audience’s attention is drawn to the stage. I let out a steeling breath as the lights from the spotlight lanterns illuminate the crimson curtain.

The velvet is drawn.

The story begins and the actors elicit all kinds of responses from the audience, exclamations, gasps, laughter, some sobs even but I might be imagining that as everything seems to fade out, I focus solely on the well of magic ebbing and flowing in my veins, the flexibility of my limbs, the forced relaxation of muscles and ligaments… 

Then I hear it. “But people can’t fold like that!”  _ Oh no, already? That’s my queue!  _

_ Okay… okay. Here goes.  _

I walk out onstage slowly, keeping my gaze averted to focus solely on what I’m doing - fortunately Ksasthra said that that was fine during practice - but the sudden knowledge that I have more eyes on me in this moment than I’ve ever had in my life makes every hair on my body stand on end. I take a shaky breath that I know only I can hear and close my eyes, focusing on the movements and the energy humming in my joints as Ainatie continues with her lines with the other characters, I arch my back and fall onto the flat of my palms and rise up, bending myself in half before lifting my feet to hook onto my shoulders. I hear loud gasps in the audience as I support myself on my palms, my breath is coming in sharp but I keep it on the downlow as much as possible as I focus on staying  _ loose, I am grass, I am leather, I am cloth.  _

I hear my going off queue and like I did during practice I roll off the stage, which elicits a loud laugh from the audience as I nearly tumble into an actor in my escape. They help me up with a hushed whisper of congratulations, I smile wearily and wave them off as I disentangle myself and straighten. 

And so it continues. I feel more and more confident each time I take the stage, and it helps that whenever I do anything, anything at all, the audience is extremely responsive, delighted gasps of awe and enthusiasm serve as excellent motivation to keep me going even as my energy ebbs. Then it comes time for me to take the central stage in the middle of Act 3 and I no longer feel fear, just a desire to do well, but something about the audience being enraptured while I’m so close to them is different this time. Now it feels like all of their eyes are lying directly across my shoulders as I dance in a slow circle with contortions of my arms as I move. At first I thought it was Ksasthra, watching me from wherever he is in the house, but when I looked up at the crowd assembled before us for the first time I lock onto lavender eyes, alight with amusement from where they are fixed entirely upon me. 

_ He made it. I can’t believe he made it!  _

Asra is standing in the far back left corner of the theatre, behind everyone as all of the seats in the house are now full. Beside him has got to be the largest human I’ve ever seen, I assume masculine presenting based on the musculature of his chest, which is largely exposed to the candlelight. He’s obscured by the shadows so I can’t make out many features about them except for the sheer breadth of his shoulders.  _ Perhaps Asra’s plus one? I can’t wait to meet him. Damn, he’s absolutely massive standing next to him… but then again Asra isn’t exactly all that big. I’ve got several inches on him and I’m still growing. But then again so is he…  _

Then I feel the awkward lull on the stage, and that’s when I realize I missed my queue to exit. I swallow on my teeth,  _ shit,  _ decide to go dramatic,  _ shit,  _ and drop my body like a sack of flour to the floor, producing a loud gasp of surprise from the audience. I shift backwards, onto my hands, standing back upright, then back onto my hands again as I make my swift exit, it’s a little embarrassing at first but once I’m off the actors proceed like nothing happened, it adds character to the scene because it’s supposed to be amusing at this part, anyway… or at least that’s what I tell myself. 

I try to keep focused, but it’s a little hard to now that I know Asra’s in the audience, but I manage it, somehow… mostly with the knowledge that he probably doesn’t know it’s me behind the mask. Probably. 

Before I know it the play is coming to an end and the musicians are playing the finale on repeat as the actors do their bows so I follow suite, clapping in the back of the collected group on stage. Near the end several of the actors shove me forward, for me to do my bows I realize just in time, so I try to sell the last of my contortion by bending backwards to bow, which causes the audience to laugh during the applause. It may have been a bit of a mistake because when I right myself and slip back to the back of the cast my vision swims a bit and my strength feels secondary. I have to let the ebb go, now,  _ or else.  _ So I do, and relinquish my magic back into its stored box deep in my chest.

Stewards start to run around then and light the extra lanterns in the theatre, better illuminating the space outside the stage now that the show is over. The audience and the actors begin to gather their things and leave, actors moving into the wings behind me and making the house look like utter chaos as people were moving at differing speeds in different directions. I try my best to peer through the crowd but I can’t identify Asra, nor the giant who accompanies him.  _ Maybe they’re already outside?  _

“Jamie.” I jolt and stand upright as Ksasthra appears behind me. His arms are crossed and his expression is stern as I stand at attention before him, and all of a sudden every worry and anxious thought I had when this night started returns to me in full scale when I meet his dark eyes. 

I clear my throat and try to wipe my nerves away to stay stoic, at least visually from what he can see around the mask. “Sir.”

Ksasthra stares at me for a long time, his arms crossed tightly over his chest before he lets out a soft, playful hum, “You’ve been holding out on me.” 

I blink and raise an eyebrow, “Sir?” 

“I didn’t know you were a contortionist.” 

“Oh.” I flounder a little, waving a bit dismissively to the side, “I’m just a little flexible, that’s all.” 

“You impressed me.” He purrs. He trails a hand through the fringes of the hair in front of my face that fell outside of Adelisa’s handiwork with an idle touch, sending shivers down my spine as his gaze buries itself in my bones, “I knew you’d prove yourself.”

I clear my throat sheepishly and step from foot to foot, “I just uh… wanted everyone to showcase their hard work. The actors deserved for the show to be as best as it could be.” 

“And they did excellently. Thanks to you.” He lets his hand fall after a long breath of silence before he continues with a low tenor, “Why don’t you take off for the night? You deserve the rest after rising up tonight.”

I blink in surprise and look over towards the stage, where I see the other stage hands are busy cleaning up, “Are you sure you don’t need a hand?”

“You did more than enough outside of your commission to make up for it.” Ksasthra smiles at me with a strangely sharp look in his eye before he pats my shoulder, “Next time you have a shift we should talk about how we can expand your… career some more.” 

I like the sound of that. Expanding my career means more money, which means that that’s the sooner standing on my own two feet. I don’t need another excuse to skip out of here - I’ve got someone special waiting - so I nod enthusiastically and give him a curt wave, “Thank you, sir! Have a good night!” With that, I retreat into the back of the costume shop in the far right wing to change back into my clothes at the speed of wind, undoing Adelisa’s work in my hair and shaking it out as I go. I snatch my satchel and my cloak from the staff room, braiding my hair back as I usually do and  _ finally  _ rushing out through the side entrance to the main street, excitement carrying my step with such eager anticipation that I slam the door open and burst out into the side alley like a bat out of hell in search for the part of the night I’ve been waiting for for three days. 

I freeze on my tracks, however, when no more than a few feet in front of me is an equally wide-eyed and startled Asra, standing alone in the alleyway facing upwards, towards the outer ring of the city. “Oh my- hello!” I start, smiling as I finish winding the dark blue ribbon around the fringe of my braid to tie it in place, “Fancy seeing you here- I was just coming to look for you.” _Strange… people who leave the entrance tend to stay on the main street unless they know where this side entrance is…_ _Or if they’re trying to leave to head to the outer reaches of the city, but I definitely doubt that’s what he’s up to. There’s nothing out there but the aqueducts and the forest beyond that…_

“I-” Asra seems to flounder for a moment, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted until after a moment he seems to recollect himself, instead giving me a fond smile, “Yes. I mean, I was just looking for you, too.” He doesn’t have the colorful overcoat I’ve always seen him wear this evening, rather he favors wearing two scarves instead, one a deep magenta around his shoulders and one a soft plum looped around one arm, swung low on towards his waist like half of a vest. The sun has long set on Vesuvia but the night is still quite young, the street lamps are lit and the city still feels very much alive around us with the bustle of people, voices and noise melting into the very cobblestones. 

I glance around the alleyway then, fastening my cloak to my shoulder as I hadn’t the time in my rush to leave, “Where’s your friend?” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me curiously, “Oh, you saw him?” I nod, prompting him to softly chuckle, “He’s rather shy, so we came in late and left early so he could beat the crowds… But he would love to meet you at a later date. He definitely enjoyed the show.” Asra’s lavender eyes are a deep indigo in the evening light of the street lanterns, they twinkle with some bronzed sort of mischief as he adds with a suave purr, “As did I.” 

I smile as a soft blush starts to rise across my features, “Excellent, I’m glad to hear it.” A loud laugh echoes into the hallway as more people from the theatre come pouring out from the main entrance up ahead, pulling my gaze momentarily away from the other’s before I remeet it with a hum, “So… what are you interested in doing tonight?” 

Asra’s lips curl into a small, catlike smile as he hums, “I thought I’d leave the choice to you. There are several performers, vendor carts, and games by the gates of the palace to kick off the Masquerade tomorrow that we could see. Or we could go to a pub, I know of one nearby that’s known for its… atmosphere, though… I doubt they’ll let us in. But there’s on harm trying, what’re the odds they’re checking, right? … Or we could go down by the docks. With all the attention up at the palace, the docks should be open and empty for us to picnic and stargaze…” 

I have to admit, all of these options are… tantalizing. Especially the stargazing, because…  _ well, that sounds kind of… romantic.  _ But after the anxiety-riddled night I’ve had, the last thing I ought to be doing is entering another situation where I might make a complete fool of myself, and it’ll be a lot more difficult for me to do that in a public setting. And… well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about this whole Masquerade business. 

And I could totally be misinterpreting Asra’s signals, after all. Just because he shows basic human kindness that doesn’t mean he’s interested in me like that.

“Let’s go check out what’s going on at the palace.” I answer after a pause, looking at Asra expectantly, “I’ve never heard of a Masquerade, I’m curious to see what all the excitement’s about.”

He smiles at me with a fond twinkle in his eyes as he holds out an arm towards the alley exit, “You won’t regret it. It’s something that everyone ought to experience at least once.” I turn and follow him out of the alley, sticking close as we melt into the dwindling crowd exiting the theatre. It takes us some time to make our way past them to a less bustling part of the street, and once we do we can walk side by side without fear of getting separated. Asra picks up where he left off, speaking with a hand waving in the air, “The actual Masquerade doesn’t start until tomorrow, but… Vesuvia loves its parties. Ever since it started becoming an annual event several years ago, each year has been an attempt to top the last.” He casts a sidelong glance at me after a moment’s pause, “Are you going to the Masquerade?” 

I blink at him in surprise, “I can? I thought that was the sort of thing that uh… only the nobility did, or something.”

Asra laughs, a bright and melodic sound that makes my heart thunder in my chest as he fixes those ethereal eyes back on me, “Of course anyone can go to the Masquerade! What a boring party it would be if only the noble houses could go.” He takes a side alley onto a set of stairs winding up and I dutifully follow, trusting his sense of direction. “I wasn’t going to go either, and I think it might be too late to get the good costumes. So perhaps we can go together next year?” 

I hum without commitment in response, my heart fluttering at the possibility of future behind his words. 

_ I can see myself staying in Vesuvia… at least for another year, if not longer… perhaps longer. _

I never stayed in a place for too long. Haven’t since Master Garmel… since I lived with Master Garmel, about three years ago, now. The longest I was in one place for was when I was at the orphanage, and that was only because I didn’t know that I could leave to live on my own until several years after I should’ve.  _ Things must really be looking good, then, if I’m thinking I’ll be staying in Vesuvia for a while longer.  _

So to strike up conversation and to end the trail that my current thoughts are flirting with, I clear my throat and speak with a tentative voice, “So… What did you think of the play? What was your favorite part?”

Asra seems to ponder on the question for a moment, his fingertips playing with the tassels on the sangria scarf over his shoulder idly before he answers with a sudden smile, “The part with the main character mocking the person with the donkey mask, in about the middle. It was so funny!” 

I snort and nod enthusiastically, “I loved watching them rehearsing that scene. They couldn’t get out the lines with a straight face for the first two weeks.” 

I can feel Asra’s gaze on me, so I turn to meet his inquisitive gaze right as he asks, “You said before that you were a stagehand. I didn’t know that you were also a dancer.” 

_ Oh no.  _ “You recognized me?” I ask with wide eyes and a shocked voice. Asra merely shoots me a knowing smile that makes the breathing in my chest stutter all together. I try to stave off the tide of embarrassment with a little cough as I wave a hand dismissively, “I  _ am _ only a stagehand, usually. We had a bit of a crisis before the show started you see, the contortionist called in sick and the only backup we had wasn’t anywhere to be found.” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth as we take another twisting turn, continuing once we’re on a more straight path, “My boss, Ksasthra, was working himself into a frenzy over it. I’m kind of flexible, and I’ve watched the show at least a hundred times by now so I volunteered to go in their place because… well.  _ The show must go on,  _ right?” I glance back up at Asra to see his eyes are wide with shock. “What’s with that look?” I ask.

A sudden blush erupts across his cheekbones like a flash of a crimson banner as he looks sheepishly to the side, he clears his throat after a pause and stammers, “I-... That’s just… very brave of you.” He pauses again and this time when he meets my gaze whatever barrier he had that was holding back his tongue seems to recede as he lets out a short, self-conscious breath, “And… I mean-...  _ kind of  _ flexible?” 

I nod, smirking a little at him as we continue up another set of stairs towards the upper half of the city, “Mhmm.” 

“There was nothing  _ kind of  _ flexible about… any of that! That was impressive, it was like you didn’t have any bones!” Asra proclaims, his hands speaking excitedly with his words as if they punctuate his sentences for him. 

Feeling suddenly rather cheeky, I pause in the walkway, prompting Asra to stop as well. I turn to him and he to me with a confused light in his eye. I raise my right leg and plant it on the wall right next to him at around his mid-torso, half boxing him in. His face flushes a delightful red at the gesture, but before I can think too much about what I’m up to I speak with a low rumble, “This is as far as I can extend my leg naturally.” 

This seems to snap Asra out of his head, as the scarlet color fades from his face and instead his gaze gleams in the lamplight, shining with focus, “Naturally?” 

I nod, quickly I throw a skimming look over both of my shoulders to ensure we’re alone in this alley before I continue in the same low voice, “Magic is useful for making some of the impossible possible, don’t you think?” As if to enunciate on my words I channel the inner layers of my power into my limbs and allow them to loosen, to relax and bend so that I can shift my leg a little higher up the wall until it’s parallel with Asra’s head, then a little bit higher to be parallel with mine. 

As I move Asra touches my calf with his fingertips, watching my leg and then shifting to watch me and that’s when I notice that in this position I am  _ incredibly  _ close to him, close enough to see the layers of color that go into his eyes. The buzzing energy from his touch is tangible, it’s like he peeled back the layers of my skin and his own magic is brushing against mine so intimately it makes my head fuzzy. 

I feel rouge crowd into my cheeks and then finally spark my thoughts into action. Quickly I drop my leg and clear my throat uncomfortably, “Sorry. That was-”

Asra takes one of my hands in his, startling me so much out of my sudden shock that I jump as he murmurs, “Don’t apologize.” He seems to have fully recovered from any and all embarrassment by now, as he gives me a suave, brazen look between thick eyelashes and speaks with a voice that I can only best describe as sensual, “You didn’t do anything I didn’t like.” 

I swallow thick on the tension in my throat as he lets my hand go, albeit a little reluctantly, his touch lingers on my palm for some time. We both realize in that moment that we’re just standing in this random stairwell in the middle of Vesuvia when we have places to be, so we continue on our trek like nothing happened. Asra clears his throat before he speaks with a low voice, no longer with that hint of languid sensuality that made my knees weak, “You seem to be especially skilled with transformative-style magic.” 

I can’t help but look around over my shoulder, keeping an eye out for any who could overhear this conversation and potentially endanger both Asra and myself. Seeing no one I respond, “You make it sound like there’s more than one type.”

“There is.” I blink over at him in surprise and raise a dumb eyebrow, to which he grants me the gift of a gentle smile as he launches into explanation, “There are different types of magic as there are different types of people in the world. Everyone has some degree of magic within them, you see, but different types of people have different types of magic within them that make them especially adept at a certain type. Some cannot cast spells without training, but others can cast spells as easily as breathing simply by thinking about it… but everyone has the capacity to learn all types. Just with varying degrees of effort required.” 

I can’t help but stare at him as we walk. After he meets my stupified gaze with a questioning look I stammer with confusion,  _ “Everyone  _ is capable of magic?” 

Asra nods, speaking as if this were totally normal despite the fact that it’s completely blowing out the foundations of my understanding, “Though some have more talent than others, technically anyone could cast a spell with the proper information… and materials.”

We finally reach the top tier of the city, there are more people out and about now with various levels of enthusiasm and probably intoxication, I’m not all that worried about someone overhearing us here. I try to hide how winded I am from the trek as I’m kind of tired after the performance, after a brief pause I huff, “... And what materials are those?” 

Asra gives me a look that I can’t quite discern out of the side of his lavender eyes. “... I tell you what. I’ll give you a basics to magic lesson at a later date. We can trade, information… for information.” He raises an eyebrow at me with a playful note as he adds, “If nothing else it’s another excuse for me to see you again.” 

Even as my face starts to burst into bouquets of roses, in an attempt to restrain the thundering hoofbeats of my heart I laugh and toss an incredulous look over at him, “We’ve only been out a few minutes and you’re already thinking about a next time?... You must have a lot of confidence.” 

Now it seems it’s Asra’s turn to blush - I can’t lie, seeing the deep crimson across the beautiful scapes of his bronze skin does fill me with a deep pool of satisfaction - after a moment, he murmurs with a more pensive voice than before, “I could stand to have more.” He glances up at me as the color bleeds from his face, he hums with a less reassured tone after a brief pause, “You make it difficult to think.”

I have to swallow hard on the rock that finds itself lodged in my throat, unsure of what to think about that. “... What’s thinking have to do with confidence?” I counter with a challenging raise in my brow thrown in his direction. 

Asra’s lips part briefly as he regards me with a forlorn expression, visibly pondering something for a long moment before he looks off to the side with a bashful smile, “... A little more than I initially thought, I guess.”

I’m unsure of what to say to that, so I decide against saying anything. The silence doesn’t last long, however, as people are starting to clump in earnest now as we grow closer and closer to the palace, I have to cling to Asra’s side to keep from getting separated though I try my best to keep from accidentally brushing against him. I tell myself it’s for his comfort, but it’s also for my own sanity; I can’t keep a straight head whenever I feel him touch me because it feels like a pulse of lightning through my veins, it’s even more intimate than just idle touching because his magic is so  _ palpable.  _

As I look at the night sky I see that there are streams hung on this part of the city in thousands of colors, looping across lanterns and buildings gilded in ivy and flower boxes, banners with the Vesuvian flag hang from them at intermittent points with a simple, embroidered black mask beneath it. The actual streets are alight with multicolored lanterns hanging from stalls and buildings, perfectly illuminating the night and all the people beneath it. That’s when I’m hit with the smell of food; mouthwatering sweets that I can practically taste if I were to stick out my tongue with the kick of sour apples accompanying them, savory delicacies that mix together so much that I can’t distinguish individual scents any longer, just a heady aroma of  _ oh, I’m hungry.  _

“Wow.” I mutter, glancing over at Asra with a look full of intrigue, “Are you as hungry as I am right now?” 

Asra laughs, lightly tossing back his head before he nods, “Definitely hungry for whatever it is they’re cooking over there.” He gestures with a slender finger towards a faraway stall with lots of steam coming from between the overhanging, colorful cloth. Equally captivated I nod in agreement, so we make our way over through the crowds of excited partiers of all ages, we certainly aren’t the youngest here, which is a bit of a relief, considering the level of general intoxication in the air. The cook behind the stall seems to be selling some type of dumpling, each about as small as coins and smelling like something hearty, cheesy and meaty all at once. It smells absolutely divine, it makes my mouth water just standing in front of it.

I wrestle out my coin purse and slide a few coins across the counter right as Asra moves to do the same, I give him a chastising look immediately and click my tongue at him, “Nuh-uh,  _ my  _ treat. You got me bread, let me buy you dumplings.” 

Asra blinks at me with a stunned, wide eyed look before he slowly slides his coin - which I realize isn’t actually coin but what looks like some type of shiny trinket - back into his satchel, “Well, then be my guest.”

The cook behind the stall, who watched this exchange with an amused expression, chortles as they swipe my coin into their palm, “What a pair of gentlemen.”

Asra makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that’s barely audible with the general noise of the street before he states with a strangely muted light in his lavender eyes, “Not a man, but thank you for the intent.” I glance over at him curiously for a moment, as our eyes meet I simply nod in understanding, my mind catching up with the situation at hand.  _ He and him, but not a boy. Duly noted.  _

The cook waves an apology as they hand over the dumplings, “My apologies. Enjoy, kids.” We pick up our individual portions and walk away from the stall so other customers can reach the counter with a friendly wave. 

On the side of the street we are on I can look down and see the angular circle of the plaza heading towards the palace, which stands like a glowing statue of marble and gemstones, backlighting the festivities in a jovial light. The streets are alive with more than just food vendors, I can see now that my furious stomach is about to be satiated, but also all kinds of entertainment. I see different varieties of dancers, who take up circular centers of the walkway, musicians lining the block each making a unique, lively sound that makes me want to move, and what look like puppet shows for children on the left hand side. Beyond that I see people participating in different games, most of which consisted of throwing things at things and hoping to hit those things, at least from what I can tell. This continues as far as I can see down the street and around the bend, same goes for the other side though I see now that there are these extremely small, as in two to three person sized, strangely colorful tents with suns and moons stitched onto the fabric there, but only on the left-hand side. 

“This is… Wow.” I mutter after an overwhelmed moment, looking over at Asra with wide eyes for guidance, “Where do we even start?” 

Asra’s violet eyes flicker up and down each sides of the rounded street, thoughtful light flickering across the starlight of his hair before he hums, “Well, while we eat I say we watch the dancers over there. Then we can try out those games, if you’d like.” He shifts to stand closer to me so he can point with more precision, I look down his arm and then at him and realize at this angle that I’ve got several inches on Asra in height, more than I had initially thought. He still has yet to really get struck fully into puberty I think, as he still has that baby-cheek quality to his features that are  _ so cute  _ when he smiles and those dimples appear… 

I reel in my internal monologue swiftly, clearing my throat and facing more forward as I nod in agreement, “Sounds lovely. Let’s go.” 

He grins and together we weave through the throng of people to a point on the street where we can sit and eat and view the performers without getting in the way of people trying to navigate through the different points of entertainment. Despite the bustle of the street we’re relatively secluded against the wall of this building in between stalls, away from the trail of people moving through the plaza.

The dumpling is absolutely mind boggling. It bursts with flavor across its surface, its got a doughy outside with an inside that’s got a kick of spice and meat and herbs that makes my tongue fuzzy and my eyes water, it’s spectacular. I try to hide how much the heat is affecting me, though, as Asra is able to pop the dumplings into his mouth without so much as a grimace like they’re nothing more than pumpkin bread in terms of spicy. 

The feminine presenting dancer closest to us who captivates most of my attention moves a lot like Maydia in a way, she twists her body in all kinds of dizzying manners that seem like she all together lacks a skeleton. She sways quite a bit, though, and I realize after watching for a few minutes that she must be a few drinks too heavy into the evening. I wonder if this is the contortionist backup that Lordelon mentioned would be drunk at the gates, here, prior to the show. 

Noticing my attention, Asra leans close to my ear after eating his last dumpling, “You danced better.” His breath has the hinted spice of the food upon it, making the skin of my neck by my ears turn into posies. 

I can’t help but snort a laugh as I pop a dumpling onto my tongue, speaking around it nestled in my cheek, “No way, I never danced before today.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Asra responds cooly, his gaze is level on my profile but with how close he is I find myself afraid of turning to meet his eyes as he continues with the same sultry tone, “Magic or not.” 

I honestly can’t tell if Asra intentionally drops his voice like that to elicit a reaction from me or if that is just how he generally speaks, intimate and sweet, but either way it sends a shiver up my spine that I can barely visibly suppress. “Do you dance?” I venture instead, trying desperately to move the attention off of me. 

Asra blinks a little in surprise before he nods, “I mean, hypothetically. I’ve never been trained or anything… but I know how to have fun.” 

I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that, “Oh? I’d love to see that sometime. I’ll let you know if we have another emergency need for a dancer in the future?” 

Asra swiftly shakes his head while letting out a wild laugh that causes gooseflesh to blossom along my forearms, “No, no, not like that. I’m not afraid to be the center of attention… but that’s a little too formal for my liking. Too choreographed.” 

I nod in understanding after I swallow my final dumpling, “Fair enough!” 

Noticing I’ve finished, Asra gingerly takes the wrappings the dumpling came in and disposes of it nearby. I thank him right as he turns to me, “Let’s check out those games. I have a good feeling about what they’re about.” He flashes me a look that I can only describe as impish as he ushers me in that direction, I follow dutifully while still slightly allowing my tongue to recover from the onslaught of spiciness it just experienced.  _ I supposed I ought to get used to it, if I’m gonna be living here for a while. I wonder how long is a while.  _

We arrive to the line of carnival delights, past an instrumentalist with three different instruments playing simultaneously in a feat of sheer willpower and artistry. Each of the game stalls are decorated with a variety of different, repeating objects, such as small stuffed animals, lovingly stitched for the Masquerade, or carved figurines of different types of wood and metal.  _ Interesting choice. Why so many of one type?  _

The closest game I see is next to that has people tossing rings onto empty milk bottles, another is about throwing rocks at a row of empty cans to get a certain number to fall over. There’s a curious series of wide barrels beyond that one where a bunch of people have their head dunked in the water or just overtop, their hands pressed behind their backs; as I watch someone makes a noise and throws their head back to show an apple glimmering between their grinning teeth. The one after I can see has a series of rubber balloons blown into the size of large fruits, pinned to a board on the wall. Standing several meters away partiers have little darts, the objective seems to be popping the balloons with said darts as when one of the people accomplishes the task with a loud  _ POP  _ their friends erupt with cheers and congratulations, slapping them on the back enthusiastically. It’s then that I see that what I thought was decor on the stalls are actually prizes, as the attendant behind the wooden counter hands off one of the stuffed animals to the triumphant shooter. The games all largely look at least to be some rehash of these concepts, extending down the street and out of my sight. 

I turn to Asra just in time to see him eyeing me with a curious lavender light in his eyes, shimmering with a cosmic luster in the multi-colorful lantern glow. “What catches your fancy?” He purrs, cocking an eyebrow at me with an inquisitive quirk of his lips. 

I hum and turn back to the games, mulling over the options for a moment before my gaze hitches on the darts. I gesture towards it with a finger, glancing over at him to gauge his interest, “How’s your aim?”

Asra follows my hand and immediately grins. “Nothing to be dismissed.”

“We’ll see about that.” I challenge light heartedly, smiling as I lead him towards the stall. 

When we arrive the group that was at the counter clears away, freeing the front for us to stand. The attendant beams at us with almost tangible enthusiasm perpetuating through their toothy smile as they swing their hands to the board, “Step right up and test your aim! You get three tries to pop one of these balloons from where you stand there,” They gesture to the counter we stand behind with wild hands as they continue, “Pop one you have your pride, get  _ two  _ and you can have a prize from here,” They point to the counter, where I see now an array of little trinkets are laid out, that one looks like a piece of charcoal whittled into a fine point, but I don’t get much of a look before the attendant snatches my attention again, “But if you get all three, then you have a selection from these!” With a wave of their hand they gesture to a series of stitched animals, largely they’re the more fantastical creatures -  _ many  _ unicorns - though one in particular catches my eye; it looks like a peryton, it has the body of a dark black stag with small, squishy antlers and the gray wings and claws of an ash hawk. It hangs on the far end of the line of stuffed animals. 

“Well, then let the best magician win.” Asra chuckles, when I meet his gaze I find he was already staring at me with an interested expression, like the details of my face are a masterpiece of a painting. 

I flounder when the meaning of his words hit me, staring at him owlishly before I glance around us, seeing if anyone heard before my gaze lands on the overly enthusiastic attendant. But they don’t seem to care in the slightest for Asra’s words, too busy smiling at us with that too wide smile.  _ How does he have such courage…?  _

_ People’s attitudes about magicians must be vastly different around here than they are up north. It’s the only explanation I can think of, it’s not the first time that Asra has made me wonder like this.  _ I smile sheepishly, roses crawling into my cheeks as the attendant hands off two sets of three darts to Asra and I. I hold it aloft for inspection but instead fix my gaze on the attendant, getting a gauge for any sort of shift in their attitude… but they don’t seem any different than before. Although they’re smiling an awful lot, it’s not different. They treat us no different even with this knowledge.  _ Maybe they just don’t understand…? Or maybe they do, and just don’t care.  _ “I’m not much of a shot, but we’ll see.” I mutter after a period of relative silence on the busy street, glancing over at Asra with a guarded expression. He smiles back at me with a gesture towards the board of balloons.  _ We’ll see.  _

I go first, lining up my shot and although the balloons don’t  _ look  _ that far away my shot is short of where I aimed, striking the board just beneath the line of balloons. I huff and shrug, glancing over at Asra right as he tosses his dart. It strikes the edge of a balloon, it pops with a  _ WAP,  _ the rubber pieces falling to the cobblestones. The attendant happily claps in victory from where they stand off to the side, out of line of fire. 

“Nice job.” I hum, narrowing my eyes as I line up my second dart. This time when I launch it, it goes closer to where I wanted, but it brushes just shy, striking directly between two balloons.

“Good try!” The attendant pipes up with a helpful note. 

I chuckle and shrug it off, turning towards Asra for his turn. He takes up his dart, turns it over between his slender fingers. He looks over at me then, flashes me a smile’s equivalent to a lazing cat before he shoots. Once again it sinks into the wood after popping another balloon with the ease of a sigh. 

“Well dang, look at you go.” I hum with compliments, flashing him a smile as I pick up my last dart. Asra chuckles from beside me, when I glance over at him I see his lilac eyes scanning my forearm’s pose, his tongue caught between his teeth as if deep in thought. “What?” I decide to press, cocking an eyebrow at him. 

Asra watches me for a moment, as if weighing his options of speaking vs. not speaking before he makes his decision, with a light touch he drifts his soft, slender fingertips up my forearm and then to my hand gripping the dart. I have to fight not to start with the sudden feeling of his magic intimately brushing against mine like the hot licks of an open fire. Softly he coos with an affectionate brush of breath next to my ear, “Try to throw less with the wrist and more with the arm. It’ll help.” 

Once he’s finished giving me advice he lets his hand drop back to his side, letting me fire on my own. I have to take a steadying breath to keep myself levelheaded, as he’s remained lingering close to my side, and with his gaze still persistently on my form I can almost feel him tangibly on my skin. I furrow my brow a little to get myself to focus,  _ focus, Jamie,  _ and follow his advice to send off the dart. I nearly jump out of my skin when it strikes a balloon and it pops, Asra’s hand settles on my waist as if to steady me when the attendant cries gleefully, “Congratulations, you now have your pride!” They stop, reconsidering their spoken words as they suddenly blush a dark red, “N-not that you didn’t have it in the first place, I just… I meant…”

Although my entire body feels like it’s standing next to a lightning bolt about to strike the earth in terms of energy it’s used to being in such proximity with, I manage to convincingly ease their worries with a wave of my hand and a smile. “Don’t worry, I understood. Thank you.” I glance over at Asra, swallowing in a last ditch attempt to keep my  _ shit  _ together right as Asra withdraws his hand, instead picking up his last dart. 

It’s then that I feel it; Asra’s energy coalesces within and around him, quietly surging to his fingertips like sprays of water from a waterfall; I can almost see a soft pink hue to the dart, now that I’m paying attention to it, as his magic works. It’s subtle, I think I’m only sensitive to it because it’s a magical energy that isn’t mine in such proximity, as he is still standing quite close to me. When he notices me looking he meets my gaze head on with the cool confidence of a poker player, with a slight upturn of his full lips he murmurs, “This one’s for you.” 

Then he throws the dart and it strikes the heart of his third balloon, popping it with a sense of finality. The attendant claps excitedly as I fix him with a raised eyebrow, they cry, “Congratulations! You oughta have one of these prizes if you want one, you’ve earned it!” 

Asra glances over at me with a look much like that of a cat caught in forbidden cream that is proud of such a feat, with a secretive smile he turns towards the attendant, “I’d love the gray and black one right there, if you please.” He asks politely, pointing up to the peryton. I raise an eyebrow at this and can’t help but smile,  _ that’s a good choice… certainly better than those unicorns. God, they really are gaudy.  _

The attendant does as he asks with over-the-top glee, handing over the small creature to Asra from across the counter, it’s about the size of a newborn and made of some sort of fluffy material. As soon as it’s in his hands he looks down at it with a raised eyebrow, turning it over a few times as if he’s inspecting it before he turns to me and holds it out towards me. I blink at him stupidly, then at the peryton, then back at him with confusion etched across my face. When he sees my befuddlement he gives me that same, secretive grin, “I said it was for you, didn’t I?” 

Before I can respond the attendant behind the counter gasps, their hands clasped over their heart as they look on with a fawning look, “Aww, that’s so sweet to win that for your boyfriend! You two really are too cute!” 

Embarrassment seizes me so violently it’s like I’m getting throttled. “We- it’s not- I mean, we’re not… We’re just friends…!” I look at them, at the far-too-amused Asra, at the adorable, smiling peryton, before I finally let out a long abashed huff as I take the stuffed creature. “Thank you.” I mutter under my breath. 

“Of course.” Asra says with a loud laugh and a bright smile, together we wave at the attendant in parting as we leave the stall. We walk down the street a bit, I’m grateful as it gives me a moment to recollect myself after that  _ embarrassment,  _ stuffing the friendly faced peryton into my satchel. It barely fits, its head poking out from beneath the flap, but it’s good enough that I let it be. Finally, when I have the thought capacity, I grumble to Asra with a playful note in my voice, “Is it right to take a prize you technically cheated to get?” 

Now, for once, Asra seems flustered, a rich scarlet decorates his cheeks as he fiddles with his scarf’s positioning on his shoulders, “Is it cheating to simply use every advantage in one’s arsenal?” 

“When it’s magic? Yes, I’d argue it is.” I hug my bag tightly to my chest, however, as I give him a teasingly lilted grin, “Any games you see that you  _ can’t  _ use magic to cheat with?” 

As it turns out, largely every game on the street Asra could somehow use his magic to give him an extra edge on. Even the shuffling game, where an entertainer shuffles a dazzling gem beneath three cups and one has to find the gem beneath its hidden cup. Asra assured me afterwards that he was only using his magic to make the woman behind the cups play fair, which makes sense when we saw how she seemed to be just as surprised as I was that the gem was beneath the cup Asra selected. It got to be a bit of a game in itself, seeing just how far Asra could go… which was surprisingly far. 

He tried to give me more prizes, but I was perfectly content with my peryton friend, so he would just take some charms he found interesting or what I think may be gifts for others, placing them in his bag. I won a few games, but my little corner of the house that Ksasthra gave me doesn’t grant me a lot of space for many frivolous things, so I didn’t end up taking any prizes. 

Finally, however, we pass by the apple bobbing game, and as I watched someone emerge with one in between their teeth I suddenly have an idea. A rather wicked one, one that I never would’ve attempted if Asra hadn’t been up to all kinds of antics all evening, so I snag on his sleeve and gesture with a finger, “Come on, one more!” 

Asra infectiously grins right back at with a pearly smile, “Lead on.” 

So I take him to the apple bobbing stall. The attendant looks incredibly bored, sitting on their stool overlooking the barrels with their chin in their palm, monotonously muttering a recitation, “You have twenty seconds to grab an apple with your mouth, you may not use your hands or any other advantages besides what can be found in your mouth.” They glance down to their hand where I see they have a watch, to keep track of time, before they look back up at Asra and I as we approach. “Have a seat at any of the barrels. Only one person’s head in a barrel at a time.”

I look over at Asra as we kneel by a barrel and smile with a secretive hum under my skin, “You go first.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me curiously, a mischievous light burning in his eyes, “Oh, how kind of you.” He smirks a little and kneels over the water as the attendant tiredly says  _ go, _ for us and for another duo who share a barrel to our right. Asra goes on the hunt, his chin skimming the waters before he attempts to snatch an apple but it ducks beneath the surface of the waters in escape, I chuckle as he tries to track it down. He dunks his face almost entirely beneath the surface to get it, the front of his hair getting caught in the watery chase. When the attendant calls for time he emerges apple-less, water dripping from his face and from the thick, curled locks of hair that hang over his eyes and that frame his face and it’s…  _ surprisingly  _ alluring. Like,  _ I’m-kind-of-angry-that-he-look-so-good  _ alluring.  _ Only someone as beautiful as Asra… _

“Let’s see how you fare.” Asra chuckles as his fingertips weave through his hair, I watch as the wet locks dry themselves out from his brushing touch alone; now that I’ve been watching for it all evening I can tell when his magic is at work. He uses it for the most mundane of things, it seems to be as natural as breathing to him, it’s like second nature for his reaction to wet hair to be  _ ah yes let me use my magic to clean it off.  _

I’ve never ever seen something like that before, but then again, Asra is the first magician I’ve ever met.

_ And now I want to try.  _ I wait until the attendant calls for the next twenty seconds before I lean over the barrel and get to work, letting my magic well up under my diligence and into my mouth. Like making myself more flexible, like making myself stronger, like transforming my hands into claws I imbue power into my teeth, with some aching from the stretch I extend my canine teeth farther out until they almost jut out from my lower lip, it shouldn’t be obvious but for good measure I keep my head down as close as I can to the water’s surface. I hover over the closest apple and immediately chomp down onto its red skin, my sharpened teeth sink in with ease before it can escape my clutches. I raise my head triumphantly with the crimson apple caught in my mouth just a few seconds after the attendant called for us to go.

Asra hums with a smile of appreciation, leaning back to sit fully down rather than on his knees like he was before, “Congratulations.”  __

Together we rise from our seats and wave in thanks to the attendant, who could not possibly care less about our existence. I pull the apple out of my mouth and toss it wordlessly over to him once we’ve walked away, he catches it and looks down at it with an idle expression before I see his attention spark just like how stars twinkle in the night sky. He raises the apple and inspects the bite mark, I can see there are rather large indentations where my canines were, cuts in the fruit’s flesh that are not normal for human teeth. He looks up at me with a questioning raise in his eyebrow. 

Wordlessly I grin at him with pointed teeth. As I run my tongue overtop the canines I return them to normal - it takes a little out of me because of the amount of times I used my magic at the show, leaving me a little weary - but it is  _ well  _ worth it as a certain level of pride manifests when Asra’s gaze hitches on the gesture of my tongue and his cheeks color like dropped cinnamon. He seems to maintain his composure, however, as after a moment’s pause to weave through the crowd he murmurs softly to me with a good-natured, teasing tone, “I thought that was  _ cheating.”  _

I grin and giggle, simply unable to help myself as a giddy energy courses through my veins from the thrill of the move, “I never said I was above it.” 

Asra smiles and laughs with me, patting my shoulder amicably as we walk through the high energy crowd, the touch like flying sparks under my skin, “You’ve  _ definitely  _ got to show me how you do that.” 

Suddenly he gasps as we’re walking when we come across a wider square, here there is a series of musicians that are playing a song that makes my heart  _ really  _ thump, my heart and every other heart in the plaza as everyone is dancing, singing along with one another and the band. The energy is palpable, coursing through the air and into the lifeblood of the bubbled area of affect around the musicians like a babbling brooke over craggy river stones.

Asra reaches down and tugs on my hand, looking over at me with a hopeful flicker in his gaze, “Can I have this dance?” His tone is suave and meant to be sarcastic, but his eyes like glimmering amethysts appear genuine and eager. 

I raise an eyebrow at him before I peer at the moving crowd. I feel something like nervousness and anticipation well up in my bloodstream. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good, but I’ll give it a oH-” I can’t even get the rest of my sentence out before Asra’s tugging me into the dance square, I stumble after him awkwardly as he thrusts us into the moving bodies, his hand never leaves mine. He starts to move with the dancers, bouncing on his heels and swinging his arms and twirling his hips dizzyingly so the point that I feel weird standing still so I try to imitate him, the others around us. 

When I look around between moves I see someone else making a strange gesture, raising their arm over their partner who in turn twirls once in place before doing the same to the other. Eager to impress Asra and at least make myself not look like a hopelessly bad dancer I do the same, rounding in a full twist before raising Asra’s hand over his head. He beams at me with such tangible excitement that it makes my heart sing as he turns around as well. The musicians launch into a loud chorus that has everyone howling kind of like wolves before the energy seems to tangibly spark and burn around us, Asra takes my other hand in his and swings with me, I meet his eyes and smile so fully that my cheeks are starting to hurt, I don’t remember the last time that my heart’s sung so brightly and so much. 

We dance for what could be a few minutes or a few hours, the music reverberating through the space and echoing across the stone walls with the voices of the musicians and the dancers who know the songs. I feel the stress of being surrounded by so many bodies slowly ebb away with every bob of my head, every twist and twirl of my hips and every raise of my arms in the air as Asra directs me, always keeping one hand bound with mine. He looks like he’s  _ thriving  _ off of the aura of the dance, even as sweat begins to glisten on his brow and on the center of his chest between the part of his shirt he moves with enthusiasm and vibrancy. His energy, his very aura is humming at the same frequency of the musician’s instruments, just under his skin and bleeding into mine. 

At one point I hear a bustling commotion over my shoulder, when I turn about while dancing to look I see the start of a some sort of drunken scuffle. It looks like the two - nope it’s three - instigators are belligerently drunk and had collided at the wrong time, fists are raised and slurred voices are cutting over the music enough to draw attention… then someone swings. Unconcerned the music plays on, even as the tone changes the positivity of the atmosphere doesn’t abate but rather intensifies, even as a fighter shoves another into another crowd of drunks which sets off a chain reaction of drunken swings. Soon it’s hard to tell who’s fighting and who’s dancing, but before I can tell what’s happening Asra’s hand in mine tightens as he suddenly pulls me away, muttering to me with a voice still full of laughter, “Alright, I think that’s our queue!” 

I snort and grin at him in mute agreement as we start to run and twist our way through the crowd, writhing now like a mass of earthworms as the band continues on, uninvolved and nonchalantly blasting the same high energy through the plaza like a captain going down with their ship. A fighter, one of the original that started this mess nearly grapples my shoulder as they’re thrown towards a food cart, I quickly twist out of their way and as if in response Asra’s grip tightens and I feel his magic wash over me like a shimmering waterfall that I can only feel rather than see. I raise an eyebrow at him as he fixes me with a playful twist of his lips before we continue, running to the best of our ability and snaking our way past more and more dancers getting caught up in the chaos until Asra pulls me into a small alleyway, barely visible with the two game stalls in front of it, all abandoned in the deep of the night,.  _ Good eye, Asra. _

He guides me through the tight space to the other side, as we spill into a somewhat busy street he pulls me across it again into a smaller alley, leaving the belligerent, energetic music behind. Only once we’re alone near the end of the bricked pass does he release my hand, letting out a soft huff, “That was… interesting!” He turns to me rather fast almost as an afterthought, his hands brace on my jaw and then cup my face as he inspects me, a worried light flickering in his eye, “Are you alright?” 

I snort, “Are you kidding?” I touch his wrists as the smile I’ve been wearing since we got here bursts wider, a giggling laugh rises and falls like the tide from my throat as I look back at him earnestly, “That was  _ amazing!  _ I can’t believe that just happened!” 

Asra blinks in surprise, his eyes flown wide for a moment, “... That didn’t scare you?” 

I roll my eyes at him playfully, releasing his wrists and prompting him to drop his hands back to his sides as I wave a hand dismissively back from hence we came, “Oh please, I’ve seen far more than a drunken street fight, that was nothing. Besides, that was too fun, I haven’t had so much fun in… well… I don’t remember!” I flash him a bright smile, genuine and heartfelt as I fix him with a bona fide smile, “Thank you so much for taking me here.” 

That somewhat familiar, deep crimson bleeds back into Asra’s face as he regards me, for a moment he seems at a loss for words. “Oh. I…” He pauses and then peers into my eyes, into my very soul it feels like with how soft and searching the lavender hues of his gaze are. I feel my breath stammer to a halt when he leans a little closer before he breathes, “I’m really glad that you had a nice night.” 

We both look up suddenly as a group of people walk by the alleyway we are in, loudly laughing and talking at a level that would be normal for the street that we were on before but here they sound incredibly loud. I return my gaze to Asra’s just as he seems to recollect himself, he clears his throat and gestures to the street, “You must be tired after your performance tonight… Come on. May I walk you home?”

I raise an eyebrow at him and up the ante, “I’d actually like to be the one to walk _ you  _ home this time.” 

Asra’s eyes brighten at the suggestion, with a soft smile he holds his hands out toward, “By all means. I would definitely enjoy your company.” 

With that we move together to leave the alleyway behind, instead making our way to the lower district. It must be deep in the night at this point, the crowds are rather sparse the lower we go into the city until we reach where the bars are located, and then it picks back up in excitement but only because there are an obscene amount of drunks out, the Masquerade making them bolder than their drink would normally make them. They leave us alone, though, which is fortunate; I wouldn’t want a repeat of last time we walked home together. 

Like last time, Asra fills the quiet silence pointing out different landmarks he recognizes, memories attached to buildings that he shares like small scraps of history and knowledge that leaves me filled with wonder and appreciation. At one point he tilts his head up to the skies, even though the streets are dark I can see just fine by the starlight in his eyes as he gestures into the cosmos, “It’s almost time for Ademordna to rise, soon. You can tell because Aryl is on the move.” He points to the stars for me to see, I trail my eye up his forearm and then into the sky and I can’t help but smile, watching the freckles of galaxies exploding above us, even muted by the street lamps it’s still beautiful. 

“We should go stargazing outside the city sometime.” I hum, glancing over at Asra as we continue on our way, “The lights here make it difficult to see.”

“I’d love that.” Asra murmurs softly in response, when I look back to meet his gaze I see that beneath his lavender eyes his face is backlit in crimson, seemingly almost embarrassed, but about what I’ve no clue. 

Eventually Asra comes to a stop to a small door in between two equally small houses, nothing but the walls inside to separate them from each other as he turns to me. “Here I am.” He gestures with a thumb to the door before he settles his hand on the front. I feel his magic working and suddenly lift an unseen veil from the doorframe, when he touches the doorknob it opens like he just unlocked it with keys. 

“How did you do that?” I ask with a mystified expression, eyes flown wide. 

Asra looks at me, then looks at the door as he chuckles, “A cross-me-not? It’s a relatively simple ward spell… Here. Like this.” He reaches over and takes my hand, pressing it against the wood of the door. This time he puts back the protection spell while I’m touching him and can feel his magic move more intimately, and then he lifts it again. It’s held by belief, warding off all but Asra from opening the door by interpreting the identity of the one before it and rejecting all but the one it knows. Simple… and interesting. 

I almost want to try it for myself, but I don’t want to keep Asra out any later than I already have. “Interesting. Thank you very much for showing me.” I pull my hand away with a smile, flickering my gaze from him and his door for a moment before I step away, “I should get home. Thank you again for a wonderful night, it was… really nice.” 

Asra smiles back at me with a sweet glint in his gaze. “Of course! Let’s do it again sometime soon.” 

I nod in agreement, pausing for just a moment before I murmur, “I’ve got a flexible work schedule now that the show is over. We should have lunch or something… I’m free the day after tomorrow.” 

Asra chuckles softly, his hand poised on the doorframe as he leans more comfortably at his home’s step, “Funny, as am I. How’d you like the bakery on market street?”

I smile at the memory, the pumpkin bread already on my tongue, “Liked it enough to want to go back, for sure. I’ll see you there?” 

Asra nods in solemn agreement, “I’ll see you there.” 

We hesitate. I glance at him, at his hand on his door and then back to his gaze, which seems locked on some point of my face with a conflicted expression.  _ He must want me to leave before he heads inside.  _ I quickly back away a bit, smiling as I wave one last time, “Goodnight, Asra.” 

Whatever was going through his head seems to clear, he looks at me with a returned-to-earth expression before he smiles kindly, “Goodnight, Jamie.” 

I practically float on my way back home once Asra’s door is gone from sight. He’s only about three turns away from Ksasthra’s front door, which is insane to me; I knew Asra was close, but I had no idea that Asra was  _ that  _ close. Though the difference the three turns I make is stark; Ksasthra’s home isn’t luxurious, but it’s a stand alone building about three times the size as Asra’s home, though it makes sense because Ksasthra’s the manager of the main performance hub in the city. It makes me grateful that I have him helping me out, I don’t know how much a home like Asra’s costs but I doubt I could make enough on the wage I have. 

I unlock the front door and head inside, smiling stupidly with my heart singing in my chest to the same thumping tune as the music playing by the palace. I wander towards my room, first on the left hand side when walking through the front door, and set my bag down but I’m so caught up in the euphoria of the night that I don’t even feel the eyes upon me until I’ve stripped myself of my cloak and my bag onto my small, straw bed covered in linen. When I look up and into the hallway I see his form standing there by the front door, his arms crossed and his gaze hard as iron daggers in the low light. “Oh!” I start, straightening my back and planting my boots more firmly in the floor, “Ksasthra! Sorry, I didn’t see you there - I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

Ksasthra doesn’t speak for a moment, instead he strides into my modest room, one he allows me to stay in out of the kindness of his heart, silent as a shadow. When he does speak, his voice is low and gruff, “Who was that with you?”

I blink at him stupidly for several seconds, trying to comprehend his question before I mutter, “I’m sorry?”

“That boy who was out in the alley. The one with the white hair that you left with.” Ksasthra persists, his obsidian eyes digging into my skin like burrowing insects. 

I swallow, suddenly feeling like I was caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to have done but I’m unsure exactly why. “He’s not a boy. But ah… he’s my friend. We went to the palace to see the celebration-” 

“How do you know him?” Ksasthra asks with that same dark furrow in his brow, stepping closer to me. I have to struggle not to flinch, though I’m unsure why; Ksasthra has never hurt me, and he has no reason to now, but my gut knows the scent of danger better than anything else. 

“We met in the market.” I answer dutifully, I struggle to hold his gaze so instead I inspect my boots, worn with time. “He’s a…” I pause. Asra was more than willing to identify himself for what he is around perfect strangers, that means it must be safe for me to tell Ksasthra here, he’s a Vesuvian native, “He’s reads fortunes and the like. He’s a magician.” 

Ksasthra’s eyes are voids of ink in the low light, his scowl is set impossibly deep and for some reason I feel the urge to duck under him and run away his gaze is so penetrating and pervasive. “You need to stay away from him.” Ksasthra growls. 

I blink in shock before I huff with a hint of indignance, “What? Why?” 

I almost immediately regret questioning him, for even though he does not move his glare becomes to tangible I almost shrink away from it, almost because it’s actively pinning my feet to the floor. “Magicians are nothing but trouble. Especially  _ that  _ one.” 

I frown in confusion, crossing my arms I huff, “But he doesn’t seem at all bad! He’s been nothing but nice and sweet and-” 

I don’t get any farther before Ksasthra’s gruff hands are on my shoulders. My words die in my throat as I instead look up at him with wide eyes as he gives me a stern shake, “It’s a farce, Jamie!” 

I drown in the frigid darkness of the blackness of his eyes. 

He releases the hard grip he has on me but I get no respite, instead his fingertips drag along my collar and up my throat in a wandering manner that makes my entire body tense up as he continues with a softer, gentler voice, but still with that gruff edge, “Of course he was kind to you. Magicians are master manipulators. He probably took one look at you and knew how vulnerable you were. Native Vesuvians can smell those who are from out of town and use that against them in order to  _ use  _ them for their own ends.” Ksasthra’s hands brush my jaw, I nearly jump through the roof as his rough fingers push on the bone, turning my head from side to side as if he’s inspecting me for corruption before he continues again, “You’re just too… tempting. You  _ must  _ be more careful and avoid people who seek to take advantage of you, do you understand?” 

He releases me and I all but let out a breath of relief, my lungs are on fire and my hands are as cold as snow as Ksasthra’s looming arms drop back to his sides. “The people I hire at the theatre are safe for you, but the rest of the city’s too dangerous.” I flinch when he cups my face again, this time I stare into his eyes and see the warmth in the darkness, like the mere memory of flame as he murmurs in a hushed whisper, “I just want to protect you. Do you understand?” 

Slowly I nod, winter rivers crawling through my veins. Satisfied with whatever it is he sees in my expression Ksasthra releases me with a gentle touch of his finger on my jaw, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the hall as he strides out of my room and instead goes down the hall to his own. I only let out the breath I was holding when I hear his door close. 

_ … What the hell was that?  _

I shake my head and try to rattle the snow collecting on my thoughts to the ground, with ironed movements I prepare for bed, releasing my hair from its confines and draping my cloak on the side table. It’s then that I see Asra’s peryton gift peeking out of my bag, looking at me with a happy, sweet smile. Suddenly compelled I check in the doorway to ensure I’m alone before I reach out and pluck the stuffed creature from within, turning my back towards the door so I can hug the fluffy thing to my chest without it being seen. It’s surprisingly soft, warm from its time in my bag, and all too welcome after the chill of that encounter.  _ Asra? Trying to take advantage of me? Why would he do that? What have I to offer him that he couldn’t just ask nicely and have? That doesn’t make any sense…  _

It takes my a while to fall asleep, nausea crawling into my throat, and when I dream, I see shadows of monsters on barred walls, the cackle of an audience, and the distant crack of the whip that leaves me trembling with my back aching. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for that sweet sweet angst that i love so.  
> I would like it to be made completely clear that the behavior that Ksasthra is exuding is and is meant to be perceived as manipulatively abusive, while also ambiguous of what exactly their relationship entails (is he just being platonic? is he romantically / sexually interested in Jamie? not the latter for certain but i want it to be a bit of a big question mark).   
> I do want y'all to know that Ksasthra is not and will never not be sexually abusive. However what you see at the end here is conducive to their relationship and will continue to escalate but not to anything beyond a 3.5/4 on a 1(not bad) to 5(extremely violent) point scale of abusive behavior. I usually wouldn't spoil like this but I know this is a particularly triggering topic for a lot of people so I wanted the expectations for all that to be completely opaque.  
> But hey, i have y'all a super fucking adorable carnival date chapter before that, so like,,, love that balance


	4. The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra knew about two months ago when he met Jamie that he would revel in this moment when he finally got the opportunity to show him the changing leaves, but he had no idea just how much he would bask in it. He wants to stay as close as Jamie will allow him, though, as of late, he has begun to sprout a lingering fear that festers in his heart about getting *too* close. He tries not to get too preoccupied with it, instead allowing himself to stay in the present, with Jamie. He’s happy to, because today isn’t just a trip to see the trees… it means more than that to Asra.   
> Today is the day Muriel finally agreed to meet Jamie for the first time. 

The sun casts the forest in hues of gold, deep oranges, cherry, and garnet as Asra forges through the trails of fallen leaves like warm, colorful, crunchy bannisters laid out beneath his boots. He gets distracted in his mental path by a crow flying over his head, it hops onto a branch and caws down at him before it flaps off, vanishing into the scarlet boughs of the trees. The color burns around him like jeweled ornaments, almost like nature knew that it was about to be seen for the first time in this state, and wanted to be in its best finery for when Asra brought Jamie to behold it. 

Beside him, Jamie lets out a soft gasp, and when Asra turns to look at him he’s  _ floored  _ by the absolutely angelic expression on the other’s face. His gilded eyes are wide, glittering and aureus in the setting sunlight, as beautiful as the leaves and the skies above him as they lock onto a falling trio of crimson leaves that falls from a branch. He watches them like they’re encrusted with gems, more valuable than the richest of silks and when he reaches out a hand to touch them it’s with such forbidden care, like if someone caught him looking his hand would get smacked away. 

Asra knew about two months ago when he met Jamie that he would revel in this moment when he finally got the opportunity to show him the changing leaves, but he had no idea just how  _ much  _ he would bask in it _.  _ Jamie resembles a child in a field of candy, turning in wide circles with his arms outspread so his pupils can swallow every color. Asra stays close to his side in order to make sure he doesn’t fall… not that he needs an excuse. He wants to stay as close as Jamie will allow him. Though, as of late, he has begun to sprout a lingering fear that festers in his heart about getting  _ too  _ close. 

Asra had a theory that the tension that has loitered in Jamie’s shoulders would be lifted when they left the city and he’s very pleased to see that he was correct. He isn’t sure exactly what brought it on, and for several weeks Asra was certain it was because of something he did; Jamie wouldn’t meet Asra’s eyes for long before he was looking away, as if Asra’s face was the sun and he would’ve been blinded if he gazed for too long. He wouldn’t let him walk him home anymore, he insisted on walking _Asra_ home, but once when Asra made the mistake of demanding to walk Jamie home instead he simply shut down; it was horrifying, Asra regretted it the moment he asked because Jamie’s shoulders curled inwards and his head hung, it was like his every behavior was a flame he had just snuffed out. Not wanting to upset him further Asra has never pressed him again, but that look on Jamie’s face, the forlorn depths of hollow light and the darkness lingering behind it… 

He tries not to get too preoccupied with it, instead allowing himself to stay in the present, with Jamie, as they march through the forest. He’s happy to, because today isn’t just a trip to see the trees… it means more than that to Asra.

Today is the day Muriel finally agreed to meet Jamie for the first time. 

Asra had been dogging him on it for weeks, begging Muriel to come into the city, just once, and meet Jamie. He desperately wanted his two worlds to merge, and eventually, after many concessions and deliberations, Muriel agreed… but  _ only  _ if it was on his terms. Asra was to bring Jamie into the forest, but nowhere near his hut, and only if it was just Jamie, Asra, and Muriel. Asra understood why he wanted such precautions, and even though he wanted to, he knew that no amount of reassurances would convince him out of them, so he agreed and relayed this information to Jamie. He had looked surprised, but otherwise seemed open to outcomes, at least so long as Asra would be there the whole time. 

And of course he would be. His two favorite people were finally going to be in one place, where else would he go? 

“When you told me that the leaves would  _ change…  _ I admit I wasn’t quite sure what you had meant.” Jamie huffs from beside him, when Asra looks over he watches as Jamie winds his long braid of his hair into a collection behind his head, in his hood to keep it out of his way. Not for the first time and not for the last, Asra wants to offer him assistance, not because he thinks the way that Jamie does his hair is bad or wrong, but so he could have an excuse to run his fingers through his hair, maybe even braid it himself… be close to Jamie while adorning his hair to showcase his beauty for all the world to see. Or perhaps what Asra really  _ really  _ wants is to get closer to and touch Jamie. 

He’s getting distracted again. Quickly he smiles at his friend as he takes up stride beside him, “Has it lived up to your expectations?”

Jamie glances over at Asra and the pensive look alone is enough to make his heart rattle in his chest. Jamie’s gilded gaze glides across the treetops once more for reevaluation before he bursts into a signature smile, one that Asra hasn’t seen since those first few days but has slowly begun to re-emerge over the past few weeks as he hums in response, “I didn’t quite have expectations… but this is by far much more beautiful than I thought it would be.” Finally his wandering eyes meet Asra’s once more as he collects his dark cloak, that treads past his thighs, tighter around himself, “Are we much farther from where we’re going to meet your friend?” 

Asra’s a tad incredulous at how Jamie’s worn the same cloak since he met him in the depths of summer now in the transition to winter. Did he not get overly warm before? He supposes not, all evidence considered… although, Jamie’s sense of style is much more naturally conservative than most Vesuvian fashion. Asra can’t recall a time that he’s seen either his shoulders or his chest in the clothes that Jamie wears; and it’s less likely that he’ll start to wear clothes like that in the colder months. Of course to each their own preferences, Asra understands completely, though it does make his internal imagination of what lies beneath the dark hues of Jamie’s chosen wool clothes that much richer. 

“We’re close.” Asra hums in response, attempting to shake off those thoughts once more as they attempt to plague and occupy him. It’s growing more and more difficult as of late, but after how Jamie was acting before, he doesn’t want to accidentally get too close to him again and potentially drive him away. 

Although he doesn’t know specifically what he did or might have done, whether or not the reason for Jamie’s sudden emotional withdrawl was because Asra had been just this side short of desperate in begging for a kiss, he doesn’t want to take that chance again. Asra would much  _ much  _ rather continue to go as things have been, spending more and more time with Jamie, getting to know him, and generally be in the genuine pleasure of his presence than risk it all for just a little bit more. As tantalizing as what that  _ bit more  _ could be… Asra is fine with this. More than fine. Because he’s with Jamie, and Jamie is a good person to be around in any facet, romantic or platonic aside. 

But now, to the task at hand. “Just remember, when you meet him, try not to be intimidated by him. He likes to think he’s big and scary, but truthfully he’s a warm and friendly person… though he is truthfully rather tall.” Asra murmurs, peering at the other seriously, “He’s pretty self conscious about his appearance, so I would advise against commenting on it.” 

Jamie’s brows furrow with a cute dimple along his forehead as he carefully watches his step on the fallen leaves that have begun to pile up and accumulate, “Anything else?” 

Asra ponders the question for a moment, adjusting his colorful overcoat as he feels Faust shift in her slumber where she’s wrapped along his stomach, cradled in his scarf. “... I’ve known him for many years now. He’s had a rough life, one that’s led him to distrust a lot of people.” He turns towards the trees as his thoughts carry him into his memories, racing along the docks while talking to his friend, learning as much as he could but largely that Muriel’s past is spotty and filled with hard, blackened edges that hurt him to talk about. 

But Jamie is soft. Warm, even, sweet in a manner that Asra thinks will be good for Muriel. If there’s anyone in his life that Asra thinks would benefit from being friends with Jamie, it’s Muriel. “But I wouldn’t introduce you to him if I didn’t think you wouldn’t be a good influence on him. Just be yourself… he’ll love being around you.” Asra’s breath hitches a little at just how quickly he almost added  _ as much as I do  _ to the end. Jamie doesn’t seem to notice his shortened breath, as he carries on through the trees without another glance in his direction.  __

They arrive to the small, runestone clearing, now wreathed in a blanket of fallen leaves from the half-clothed boughs above. Asra brought Jamie here about three weeks ago for a picnic, just as the trees were beginning to change. He remembers that day he had resisted the urge to touch his jaw and lips at least a hundred times because every move that Asra would make had Jamie’s eyes hitch and lock on him with a look he’s familiar with, though not on Jamie. Muriel hadn’t wanted the meeting to be here initially because it was one of  _ their  _ spots, but after Asra had told him that he had already brought Jamie there he ended up relenting, while grumbling of course, but ultimately accepting it. 

Much to Asra’s distinct pleasure Muriel is already here, sitting with his back to them on top of a pile of furs that he’d brought from home. He had also brought some food for their dinnertime picnic, boiled eggs and what looks like strips of fish, all wrapped in ragged linen cloth beside him. When their boots crunch in the leafy earth he turns then and locks eyes immediately with Jamie, who only tenses for a brief moment before he continues to walk next to Asra like nothing happened. 

“Good, you’re here!” Asra calls with a genuine smile, waving to Muriel as his friend’s murky green eyes, hooded in the shadows of his long hair in his face, stay intent on the one at Asra’s side. “Muriel, this is Jamie.” Asra turns to Jamie and beholds a hand towards the other, “Jamie, this is Muriel, my best friend.” 

To Asra’s distinct delight the title assignment to Muriel knocks him off his distrusting game enough for him to blush in embarrassment instead of glare at and pick Jamie apart from the seams for ill intent, like Asra knew he would. He knows that Muriel will be looking for reasons to distrust Jamie, which Asra knows he won’t find but it’s not exactly a great feeling for Jamie to be examined so studiously. So Asra knows it’ll be largely up to him to keep conversation light… and  _ not  _ interrogative. 

Asra sits down on the furs that Muriel spread and sets down his satchel, pulling out Selasi’s famous pumpkin bread as he continues, “Thanks for bringing the eggs and fish. Jamie and I brought bread and those grilled leeks you like from the north side.” 

Jamie was mostly frozen in a standing position beside him, but at the prompting for the leeks he quickly kneels next to Asra, quite close to him to Asra’s utter joy. He produces said leeks from his own bag and offers it in the middle of their little triangle on the furs. Muriel’s gaze watches him the whole while, suspicion seeming to drape over Jamie in an even more dark and dismal cloak than the one he wears. It doesn’t seem to be bothering him much, as he occupies himself with his positioning on the furs. 

_ Alright, operation get-Muriel-to-like-Jamie is a go.  _ Asra thinks to himself as he crosses his legs on the furs, “How have you been?” He asks Muriel, digging into his food first to get the picnic rolling. Muriel starts to eat as well, albeit slowly and with a cautious set in his shoulders that Asra hopes will start to relax as time goes on. 

“... Fine.” Muriel mutters, his gaze never leaving Jamie. 

Jamie seems to withstand the pinning stare but he doesn’t reach for any food, so to help him out a little Asra reaches over for one of Muriel’s eggs and fish to hand to him. Jamie takes it gratefully, clearing his throat as he meets Muriel’s gaze head on, “So, what do you do, Muriel?”

Muriel blinks at Jamie stupidly for a solid second before he mutters, “... Do?”

Jamie blinks back at him with equal confusion. “... Yeah. You know… what do you do in your day to day? For fun?” 

Muriel’s brows knit together as he blinks in shock at the question. Asra can’t help but giggle as he takes up the task of slicing and distributing the bread, “He likes to whittle. And spend time with the chickens that live nextdoor.” 

Muriel shoots Asra a glare as if he were divulging his deepest secrets as Jamie blinks in surprise, “You have chickens?” 

Muriel flickers his gaze from Asra to Jamie with a shrouded look across his features, finally he mutters in a quiet voice, “... I feed them sometimes.”

Jamie smiles a little, a flash of light that makes Asra’s breath come with a little more difficulty as he speaks with a pensive hum, “I love chickens. They’re really cute… though they can be really mean, if you don’t know how to approach them.” He looks down at the boiled egg in his palm that Asra had given him and continues with a dreamy, half-present tone that shows how far away his golden eyes are from the present moment, “Up north I stayed at a farm where we raised chickens. There were three. I named one Henrietta and the other two were already named Margerie and Juliette.” 

He seems to come out of whatever mental space he was in as he focuses on Muriel’s digging gaze, speaking again with a  _ now you  _ gesture towards his friend, “Do your chickens have names?”

Now, Asra didn’t think that there was a lot of potential for discussion when it came to chickens, but apparently Jamie and Muriel knew more than he thought and discussed it for several minute while they ate. Whenever there was a lull in the conversation Jamie would find a prompt that brought Muriel more and more out of his shell, his shoulders steadily relaxed and his expression softened around the hard corners listening and talking about chickens. Asra can’t help but look at Jamie with a fresh gaze of appreciation; he really was trying to make an effort to befriend Muriel. 

Asra’s heart could not be more full than it is at this moment. 

Suddenly, through the trees comes an echoing, animalistic cry, jarring them where they sit together in the clearing. It’s a bone chilling sound, one that leaves the hair on the back of Asra’s neck rise and makes Faust shiver and suddenly the warmth of their little circle seems to evaporate as they all turn in that direction. Try as they might to see where the sound came from, the trees are too dense, they’re unable to see through the trunks as to what could’ve possibly caused such a sound. 

“What was that?” Jamie mutters. Asra looks back at Muriel and he at him, but before either of them can act Jamie twists to his feet, peering hard through the trees as he speaks in a low voice, “It sounds like they’re hurt-”

Asra quickly stands as well and lashes out to take Jamie’s wrist before he can leave the clearing. He jumps at the sudden contact and looks back at him with wide eyes as Asra speaks with a soft whisper, cautiously looking back at the trees, “We don’t know what’s out there. It could be dangerous.” 

Muriel murmurs in agreement, his back deadly straight from where he remains seated on the furs, “The forest isn’t safe.” 

Asra nods, releasing Jamie now that he’s stopped moving to leave, “We have protective charms in this grove, we should be alright so long as we stay here.” 

Jamie frowns, his dark brows furrowing together as he turns around slightly to look back towards the origin of the sound, “But it sounds like someone’s injured… We should go help them.” 

Muriel looks at Jamie with a slightly bewildered expression as he stammers, “Why?” 

When Jamie meets Muriel’s gaze, his eyes morph and flow from bewildered, indignant, curious, then finally to determined as he sets his jaw and his shoulders, “If you were hurt in the… apparently dangerous forest…” He says this while looking at Asra, whose heart begins to dance before he looks back to Muriel, “... wouldn’t you wish that someone was there to help you?” 

Asra can’t lie… he never would’ve considered this situation in that respect. All he knows is that the forest, especially as it’s getting into the evening, is dangerous, and that he wants above all else for himself and those he cares about to safe and well, which means staying  _ here.  _

But Jamie also sounds incredibly set on going out there, and Asra’s absolutely  _ not  _ going to let him go alone. 

“We’ll come with you.” Asra states, looking over at Muriel with a raised eyebrow to confirm with him because he wants to encourage him to come, but he doesn’t want to force him to if he truly does not want to. 

Muriel’s eyes widen at the statement, they flit from Asra, to Jamie, to the forest behind him, and then to the ground. He doesn’t say anything, so Asra hopes that that means he’s at least considering it.

Jamie doesn’t wait too long after Asra makes this declaration, however, before he’s marching into the forest towards the origin of the sound. Asra quickly moves to follow, and as he glances over his shoulder to his relief when he makes eye contact with Muriel he rises from the furs to join him. Asra makes sure that he sees the appreciation on his face as he touches his arm, murmuring softly, “Thank you.” 

Muriel huffs and turns a little red at the gesture but otherwise doesn’t respond. They sift through the underbrush after Jamie, who is making a serious beeline through the trees, the dark ink of his cloak standing out in the evening sunlight, like a shadow among a bonfire. As they continue, they start to hear the sounds of a struggle, ruffling and angry chitters that makes Muriel tense more and more as they grow closer and closer.

By the time Asra and Muriel catch up to Jamie, they find themselves in a smaller, muddy clearing, large hoofprints inscribed into the malleable mud, melted and moist from the morning frost but that’s not what draws Asra’s eye. What does is the massive creature, caught suspended in the air in a massive, chain net in the center of the clearing, the likes of which Asra has never seen before. It looks like a large buck, with a thick brown coat and with its antlers it looks to be as tall as Muriel, but unlike a normal (if massive) deer, this one has broad, hickory colored hawk’s wings stretching from their back at awkward angles from within the net. This is the source of the struggling sounds, as the massive creature is actively trying to break free from the net, an evident trap trigger sprung a few feet away under a thick carpet of moss in the center of the muddy clearing. 

Jamie stares up at the creature with wide eyes as it struggles, holding up his hands as the pair enter the clearing and calling up to it in a soothing voice, “Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s okay, don’t hurt yourself now, don’t hurt yourself. We’re here to help.” 

Asra shivers as his voice washes over him and he realizes after a moment that it’s because Jamie’s magic drips from his words, meant to calm the beast with such strength that without realizing it the tension in Asra’s back has vanished, as well as the stress in Muriel’s shoulders. The creature slowly stops its struggle, its antlers stuck in hoops around the chain net while its limbs are jutting at awkward angles in midair, a massive umber feather with white in its ridges flaking loose from within the confines and into the mud. Its eyes, warm and deep like the earth flicker to the three of them standing before it and in that moment Asra shivers; he looks into those eyes and comprehends its a larger part of the natural ecosystem, its life is beyond face value, magic is imbued into its very lifeblood and it’s deep and powerful, beyond what Asra can easily comprehend… similar to the Magician, if on a smaller scale.

“What is this?” Asra murmurs, only looking away from the creature to ensure that no other visible traps are nearby, but it appears like this iron netting was alone in this muddy clearing.

“... This is the spirit of the forest.” Muriel murmurs softly, so softly that Asra almost didn’t hear him. Asra glances over at him with a curious glance and sees his friend’s deep green eyes firmly on the beast in almost wide-eyed shock. The spirit seems to be just as surprised to see him, as its gaze now meets Muriel’s and as Asra watches he can see their magics reaching out and tentatively investigating each other, they’re very close in terms of types that Asra can’t help but stare as he feels his friend’s magic coming to life around him. It’s like two different trees’ branches reaching towards each other to embrace. 

Jamie glances back at Muriel only briefly as this occurs before looking back up at the suspended spirit. “... Huh.” Jamie mutters thoughtfully, lowering his hands now that the spirit of the forest has stopped its struggle. “Muriel, can you keep him calm? I’m going to try and see if I can’t get this net down.” 

Muriel nods mutely, still staring with wide eyes at the spirit. Before Asra can blink Jamie twists about in the clearing, eyeing the tree trunks before he suddenly takes off his cloak in a whirl, tossing it to the side and fully revealing the simple, dark blue tunic he wears beneath it before he goes over to one of the smaller oaks in the clearing and leaps onto its low hanging branches. With some strain he pulls himself up, kicking into the air for balance, and from there he starts to scale the tree, one branch at a time. 

Worried, Asra moves to hover just beneath him, looking up into the boughs as the evening shadows seems to make Jamie’s midnight blue tunic that much darker and more difficult to see in the arms of the oak. “Be careful!” He calls, looking over at the spirit and then at Jamie as he shimmies along a branch. The spirit hasn’t moved, holding still in its suspension to eye Muriel, who looks to be in the perfect balance of confused, relaxed, and tense. Muriel has always had a deep attachment to the forest, Asra figures that being a resident of it, he would have a natural connection with its spirit. Especially because the inherent essence of their magic is so similar.

“That’s the goal. Well, one of them.” Jamie calls as he crawls onto a higher branch and Asra realizes now that he’s trying to get to where the net is being suspended with the intention of taking it down. He watches Jamie straddle a large tree branch where the netting is fixed in a sinch over the spirit’s antlered head, Asra can’t see him well as he’s obscured by crimson leaves. When he walks around the muddied center to be on the other side of the hanging spirit, he can see Jamie looking at the mess of metal links in front of him with a perplexed expression. 

“Can you try and use fire to melt it? Or water to cut the branch?” Asra offers assistance from the ground. 

He feels Faust shifting in his scarf and when he glances down he sees her looking up at the spirit of the forest with unblinking scarlet eyes, her thoughts melt uneasily into his,  _ “Danger?”  _

To answer he gently strokes the top of her head as he lifts his gaze back up to watch Jamie, murmuring so softly he can barely hear himself, “It’ll be fine, Faust.” 

When Jamie peers down below at him his expression appears utterly lost, “... I don’t know how to use magic like that.” He frowns as he looks back down at the sinched net, rolling his sleeves from his wrists, where they meet his fingerless gloves, instead to above his elbows. After several seconds of hesitation he then grabs both sides of the net as if he’s about to rip the bagged net off of its fixed spot on the branch. 

Before Asra can call out to ask what he thinks he’s  _ doing,  _ he suddenly hears a soft voice to his left. “It’s nice to meet you, too. We’re here to help.” Muriel whispers, momentarily distracting Asra as he looks over to see his friend holding up his hand to the beast. Its massive head is pressed fully against the metal chains, leaning towards him with a warm light flowing through its eyes. Asra watches for a second longer and realizes that there  _ is  _ actual light coming from this creature, a soft emerald hue that seems to encapsulate it and then Muriel as he rests a great hand on its snout, overtop the metal. He can almost feel it tangibly from where he stands a few feet away, the mixing of their magical essences like the swirl of powder into a concoction. It’s… strangely beautiful, like the Magician’s realm; ethereal, almost unreal but strangely somehow like coming home. 

“Look out below!” Jamie calls suddenly from above, pulling all four of their attentions back to him and Asra’s jaw nearly drops at the sight. In his hands is the chainlink sinch and as Asra watches Jamie’s forearms, bared like fallen snow in the sunlight, begin to tremble and shake and before his eyes the metal begins to groan and give, ripped apart like cloth for a bandage. The net begins to teeter, the spirit within jolting in surprise as it start to pitch until Jamie manages to rip open half of the metal netting off of the rung but as soon as it’s done he loses his balance on the branch, he and the beast come toppling to the ground, both making noises of shock in their descent. 

Luckily Muriel managed to get out of the way as the beast hit the earth but even as Asra rushes forward he’s too late to catch Jamie; he falls face first into the mud, the metal chains he broke with his bare hands clanking on top of him. 

Asra immediately grabs the chains and throws them to the side - they’re a lot heavier than they first appeared - and as he grabs the back of Jamie’s tunic, Jamie groans and posts himself on his elbows to rise. “Are you okay?” Asra gasps breathlessly, moving to help Jamie stand. His hair and arms are laced with mud and the entire front of his tunic is now mottled brown, but what worries Asra most is not immediately visible, but rather evident as soon as his hands brush against his form; Jamie’s magic feels depleted. If it were to be characterized as a cup of water, Jamie would only have a few droplets clinging to the glass. Touching him Asra can feel the strained pressure in Jamie’s arms that begins to bleed away, and Asra quickly realizes what had happened; the same magic that Jamie used before to make himself flexible for the theater - which is something that he’s been using a little more consistently now - he used to make himself stronger to break the chains. And it must’ve taken more strength than he had thought, for when Asra grips either side of Jamie’s shoulders to pull him upright his eyes shut and he groans as his knees give. 

But this time Asra is there. He pulls him close against his chest and steps back a few times until they’re at least out of the mud before sitting on the grass outside the muddied clearing, Jamie laid before him with his eyes fluttering open and closed at regular intervals. When he speaks he sounds half asleep, “Did we do it?” 

Right as he speaks, the pair’s eyes are drawn to the form of the spirit, shifting in the now only half-covering of the net. It stands upright on its large hooves and once it’s head is raised its wings fully outstretch and give a vigorous ruffle, as if the spirit is shaking itself off from the encounter. 

Then its eyes fall to them on the forest floor and for a heartbeat Asra has a moment of apprehension, until it bows its head down towards them, gaze inquisitive and investigative. Its large nose, the size of Asra’s head, sniffs the front of Jamie’s muddled tunic. 

Jamie looks up at the creature and Asra can feel tension within him, like a coiled spring, but he doesn’t move as the spirit hovers over them. The spirit blinks at him slowly, almost leisurely, before it straightens back upright and then strikes out into the forest so fast that one second it was there, then the next it was gone. 

Beyond them, behind where the spirit was, Muriel looks at the space where it just went with wide, stunned eyes, his arms held close to his chest. 

“... So it’s not injured. That’s good, at least.” Jamie mutters with a genuinely relieved sounding tone, moving to sit upright where he was in Asra’s lap. 

Asra immediately hovers his hands by his shoulders in worry, murmuring with a soft voice, “Easy, don’t move too quickly… your magic is severely depleted.” Jamie grumbles and waves a dismissive hand, but as he moves to stand upright he wavers and instead sits right back down where he was, into Asra’s waiting arms. Jamie leans against him with slightly laboured breaths, his eyes are half open as they skitter across Asra’s features before he deftly looks away with a sudden tint of rose on his face that makes Asra’s heart flutter. 

But that shouldn’t be the forefront of his thoughts. “You should’ve been more careful! There must have been a better way to free the spirit than to strain yourself so much.” Asra chastises, making Jamie’s blush turn into carmine as he continues, “Like cutting the chains, or melting them off. Or the branch it was on.” Faust wiggles herself out of his scarf then and peers out at Jamie, she slides up and onto his shoulder to closer inspect his face. Asra hears her thoughts curiously,  _ “Oh no! Poor friend!”  _ She rests on Jamie then, situating herself on his shoulders and starts to squeeze them a little, like a hug.

Jamie doesn’t say anything for a long moment, though he does gently touch Faust’s chin to give her some fond scritches. He looks off to the side like the trees to their left are lined with interesting baubles before he mutters under his breath with a teasing lilt in his grin, speaking softly enough just so Asra could hear him, “Guess you’re just gonna have to teach me some different types of magic then.” 

Asra’s heartbeat is in his ears, his throat, his hands and arms wrapped tightly around Jamie. “Of course. But you could’ve asked under better circumstances and gotten the same answer, you know.” Asra grumbles, but it lacks any and all bite. Jamie chuckles softly. 

Large footsteps approach them and Asra looks up to see Muriel’s gaze on Jamie, but it’s different than before; now he looks more inquisitive and puzzled rather than suspicious and wary. In his large hands is Jamie’s cloak that he had tossed off to the side before scaling the tree, it looks as if it’s for a child in his massive grip. Asra holds Jamie close to him, not at all minding the mud he’s getting on his own clothes on the way as he looks up to Muriel, “His magic is severely drained. He needs to rest… can we please take him back to your hut?” 

Muriel’s shoulders immediately tense up as his gaze goes back down to Jamie, who is now looking back up at him with what would be a interested expression if he didn’t seem so largely tired. Asra knows what he’s asking. He wouldn’t unless he felt it entirely necessary to keep his friend’s comfort in mind but this is an emergency. They can’t have Jamie out in the forest, barely able to stand before nightfall. 

No one told Jamie this, however, as he immediately sits up out of Asra’s hold and states with finality, “No no, it’s okay, I don’t want you to trouble yourselves over-” 

“Jamie, please.” Asra murmurs with a tone full of soft tenderness to such a degree that both Muriel and Jamie look at him with surprised eyes, although for two different reasons. He focuses on Jamie in that moment, pleading with him as he rests his hand on his shoulder, “You shouldn’t be moving after straining yourself so much.” He turns slightly so he can look up into Muriel’s cautious gaze, addressing them both as he asserts, “I wouldn’t ask unless I thought it were necessary.”  _ And if he weren’t to be trusted.  _ Asra wants to add for Muriel’s benefit, but he hopes the gleam in his eye is enough communication for Muriel to understand the intent. 

Jamie frowns at Asra, yet it seems to be more at the space behind Asra’s head as he sits up but he can see the tremble in his arms as he tries to hold himself upright, worriedly Asra grips his shoulders a little tighter.  _ It’s okay. I’m here. Let me help you.  _

He would pour his own magic into Jamie’s, but his is so depleted that Asra would run the risk of also being overextended himself if he were to restore Jamie to an at least normal level, so instead he shares his magic with him to ease the sickness he must feel. Asra’s only overextended his magic a few times, but it was enough that he was cautious of ever doing that again because of the violent nausea and sheer lethargy and fatigue that comes from it. Jamie looks  _ far  _ better than Asra would in this situation, that he’s entirely certain of. 

Jamie’s frown only deepens as he feels Asra’s magic wash over him, but just as Asra’s about to pull away to keep him from getting uncomfortable he lets out a deep, soul-weary sigh before he seems to relent to Asra’s touch, “... I guess it couldn’t hurt.” He leans into him slightly, almost like he’s afraid to do so, and it makes Asra’s very soul catch on fire like a wandering ember that strayed too close to hay. 

But he doesn’t let himself get too distracted with it as he turns to look up at Muriel for his consent. He’s still watching, has been this whole time, but when Asra meets his gaze he can see the tension in Muriel’s shoulders abate. Finally, he closes his eyes, breathes in, then lets out a sigh. “... Can you walk?” He asks, his deep voice like a distant rumble of thunder. 

Jamie nods and stands, leaning heavily on Asra as he does so but as soon as he’s on his feet he begins to wobble, his eyes widening like he’s about to fall down a flight of stairs so quickly Asra sweeps his arm over his shoulders to keep him standing… but it’s not quite enough. Before Asra can problem solve, that’s when Muriel steps forward, towering over the pair he wordlessly places a thick, bough-like arm behind Jamie’s head and his other behind his knees and lifts him into his arms. Jamie squeaks adorably and grabs onto the front of Muriel’s harness to steady himself before he goes very quiet, bright red as he’s cradled in Muriel’s arms. 

Asra can’t help but beam at this, the sun seems to shine out from his heart and into the forest as he takes up stride beside him, “Thank you, Muriel. Can you carry him there?” 

Muriel looks off to the side with a sour curl of his lip and a scarlet rush of his cheeks, grumbling under his breath, “... ‘s fine.”

Jamie looks equally embarrassed, but he doesn’t release Muriel from where he holds the front of his harness. Confident that he has him well handled, Asra allows Muriel to lead them back to his hut, though sticking close so he isn’t too far away from Jamie. 

Along the way he hears Jamie speak in a hushed undertone to Muriel, where he rests his head against his chest, “... You didn’t have to do all this. I know it must be hard, to… So thank you.”

Muriel makes a soft grumble in response that sounds like a  _ no problem  _ but it’s largely lost in the crunch of his feet in the fallen leaves. Asra swears that Muriel’s face hasn’t stopped being red since he started carrying him, but now especially it looks like he could become a permanent ruby. 

This isn’t how he thought this first meeting would go… but all things considered? This is  _ far  _ better than he expected.

They make it to the hut in good time. The forest is just in the beginning stages of dusk, the trees now look like they’re wreathed in cherry scarves and golden banners with the setting sunlight cast through them. Jamie shifts slightly in Muriel’s arms once they’re close and Muriel heads inside the hut, Asra hears him say something but he can’t catch what on bracing fall breeze. The firepit is ashen and gray on the far side of the room, casting the interior in long veils of shadow as Muriel sets Jamie down on some furs by the firepit. There’s one, charred log in the fireplace, long since burned out but Asra figures it’ll suffice enough to light the room, at least for a little while before they can get some more wood. He kneels down next to Jamie and helps him get comfortable on the furs, which he seems amenable to. Though he seems to be behaving no differently, it’s only in passing from the light of the doorway that Asra can see his face is bright red.  _ He’s probably just embarrassed,  _ he thinks to himself as Muriel straightens,  _ he doesn’t seem like the type who is used to receiving help.  _

“... I’m going to get more wood.” Muriel mutters, eyeing Jamie with a narrowed gaze before he glances at Asra with a more open, casual expression, then he turns back to the doorway to head outside, leaving the door open so light can enter the abode.

Asra turns to Jamie in the semi darkness and speaks after a moment with a soft voice, “You want to learn different magic? Let’s start with fire.” He holds out a hand towards Jamie, palm up, then extends his other hand towards the log on the firepit. Jamie looks at him with a confused expression, so Asra gently elaborates, “Next time we can work on you casting the spell… but for right now, you can feel how it works for me so that we can figure out how it can work for you.” 

Jamie nods a little in understanding, slowly placing his hand in his. He gets that little jump of energy that he’s used to by now when he touches Jamie, though it’s far more subdued than usual because of his drained state. 

Jamie’s magic is a crystalline prism, and some light that shines through it reflects outwards in a dizzying array of color that manifests on Asra’s magic, which is more like a pond that moves in a river. He can feel the light’s rays on the patterns of water within him, while also feeling his own magic refract back at him from the prism that is Jamie’s magic. It’s difficult to understand, even more difficult to explain but every time Asra comes in contact with Jamie he doesn’t find himself terribly preoccupied in trying to understand or explain. It, like the dawn, exists continuously, and he doesn’t question it, he only admires its beauty. 

Asra returns to the task at hand. His hands are cold as ice, even with his gloves on the bits of skin that Asra can feel are like morning marble floors, more incentive to get this fire started. “You’re so cold.” He murmurs, looking back at Jamie with a soft gaze as he wraps his fingertips in his palms, making sure they’re warm to the touch through his magic. “We shouldn’t have been out for so long, you might’ve gotten sick.” 

Jamie snorts at him in a dismissive way, sitting with his legs crossed beneath him as he looks out the open door, “I just didn’t notice it… don’t worry too much about it, I’ll be fine.” He looks back at Asra with a meaningful gaze, soft and warm like the setting sun Asra’s throat tightens and he has to fight to keep his hands steady. 

So he shifts his attention to his palm, hovering over the log on the firepit. To the task at hand. Asra closes his eyes and thinks of fire, its heat and its energy sparking forth beneath his fingertips like a living being itself until a fire roars into reality, consuming the log and illuminating the room with a crackle of flame. When he glances back at Jamie he sees his eyes are rather wide and aglow, like liquid gold, it makes Asra have to take a moment and simply feel his own pulse hammer in his throat. 

He can only recollect himself when his gaze drifts away from Jamie’s, instead down to his muddied clothes. Prompted with an idea, he stands up and walks over to the chest under the bed on the far wall, opening it and pulling out one of his own shirts and pants, as Jamie will probably better fit in Asra’s clothes than Muriel’s. He keeps many clothes here for when he spends the night with Muriel. he turns back to Jamie, “Here, we should get you into some clean clothes. I can wash-”

“Absolutely not!” 

Asra pauses, looking at Jamie’s suddenly risen hackles with wide eyes from where he stands frozen with the fabric in his hands. Jamie seems to realize the violence of his outburst and shies away, awkwardly pulling on his cloak a little tighter around himself as he stares into the fire, away from Asra. 

Faust slithers along Asra’s shoulders then, peering at the light to dark pink gradient shirt in Asra’s hands and then at Jamie before she states confidently,  _ “Not his color.”  _

Asra shoots her a  _ now is not the time  _ look before he quickly refolds the shirt. “... Of course, no problem…” Silence. Asra swallows. “I only meant to…”

Jamie cuts him off with a sheepish look, “I-I know, I know.” Asra lets his words trail off as Jamie’s shoulders curl inward, his profile in the fire looks so anxious and troubled that Asra has to struggle with his desire to wipe those worries away. After a long, agonizing moment of quiet he speaks again with a softer voice, “I’ll… I’ll change into it, just… Just turn around. While I put it on. Please.” His words are halting and unsettled like sand tossed into the ocean, only once he has finished talking does he look back at Asra again with such a pleading expression that Asra once again has to fight to not hug him outright. 

“Of course!” Asra quickly agrees without a second thought. He holds out the change of clothes and then goes into the door; he peers out to see Muriel chopping some wood several meters away, but just in case he shuts the door to give Jamie some privacy. It blocks off the evening sunlight from coming in, but with the firelight Asra figures they should be fine to see. He keeps his back towards the fire as he comes back inside, mindfully he replaces the trunk back in its spot and while he’s thinking about it he speaks in a soft hum to Jamie, “You should lay your cloak out by the fire, so that it can get warm.” 

Jamie makes a noise of agreement. Suddenly, a loud, metal clanging sound rings throughout the hut, and on instinct Asra turns to see what happened. 

Jamie’s back is turned to him. He’d taken off his tunic but had apparently lost his balance and knocked over the empty kettle sitting by the fire as he was laying out his cloak. Asra quickly whipped his head back around as if he didn’t see anything, scolding himself for violating the one request Jamie had of him, but even so a sudden, uncomfortable ice settles over his stomach. It didn’t seem like Jamie saw him look, however, so Asra is quick to wipe his face of any emotion, instead tossing the momentary sight aside so that it can be forgotten, at least for now… even though he doubts that that will actually happen. 

The large scars on Jamie’s back are permanently affixed behind Asra’s eyelids, long and thin strips between his shoulderblades and racing downward, like many long cuts from a sword or lashes from a barbed wire.  _ Lashes.  _ He realizes.  _ They’re lashes.  _

“Okay, I’m decent.” Jamie’s voice is soft and makes Asra start in surprise but not for long, quickly he throws that line of thought out the window. Now is not the time to be thinking about such things, especially things that obviously Jamie had not wanted him to see. If Jamie’s ready he may tell him, but until then Asra must respect his privacy, even if it was violated on accident. 

So he turns back around and smiles, sitting down with him after retrieving some furs from the bed and draping them over him for additional warmth. Jamie takes them with a grateful nod, though Asra is uncertain if it’s a trick of the firelight whether his face is truly as crimson as it seems. 

It isn’t helping that Asra’s clothes seem to fit him in all the right ways, his collarbone is exposed to the world and because of the natural low cut of the blouses Asra likes to wear he can see some inches of his chest for the first time. It’s a becoming look, one that Asra has to remind himself not to linger over so that Jamie doesn’t feel self conscious with his stares.

Once Asra settles next to him, Faust slips out from under his scarves and deposits herself by the fire. In a hushed tone Asra warns, “Don’t get too close.” 

Faust lifts her head only slightly as she adjusts herself into a coil by the fireside.  _ “Warm.”  _ She thinks. 

Jamie glances at him, then at Faust, before going quiet. After a time of silence, he shifts the furs as he mutters, “We can share them, if you want.” 

Asra blinks at him in surprise. “What?” 

Jamie raises an arm, lifting up the furs, “You know… the fur? We can share them. You must be cold, too.” In that moment Asra realizes that his gloves are gone, and for the first time since they’ve met he can see the entirety of his pale hands and forearms in the firelight and it’s suddenly shocking to him just how  _ robbed  _ he feels; all this beauty was hidden away beneath layers of leather and linen, and only  _ now  _ he gets to see the Jamie beneath the clothes he usually hides behind. 

Asra’s heart feels like a drum in his chest. Faust’s unblinking gaze flickers with wild amusement between the two of them and he hears his familiar joke in his head,  _ “ _ **_Friends_ ** _ to keep warm.”  _

He shoots her a narrow eyed look, as she had far too much emphasis on the  _ friends  _ part, but only for a second before he points to the mud on his clothes, “I should get dressed. I was going to take our clothes outside to get the mud off… but I’ll take you up on that offer when I return. Deal?” 

Jamie smiles a little, it’s a tired one but it steals Asra’s breath anyway. “Deal.” He murmurs. 

It takes some serious effort, but Asra manages to walk away from Jamie’s warmth by the fire. Instead he goes to the corner to change out of his muddied clothes, though he isn’t nearly as muddy as Jamie was he doesn’t want for his clothes to get ruined. He figures if he changes behind Jamie’s back, he could keep his back to Asra to avoid seeing something he doesn’t want to see.

But… Asra isn’t particularly self conscious. And with Jamie, he finds himself not minding in the slightest if he looked his way… that might actually be something he would be alright with. Now curious, as he’s unbuttoning his shirt to pull off he glances over his shoulder to see if Jamie even notices what he’s doing and to his muted surprise Asra finds Jamie’s gilded gaze looking right back at him, his eyes are so wide he looks like he just saw a ghost. 

As soon as Asra’s gaze connects with his, he slides his shirt off his shoulders, and like the spark of a fire being started Jamie twists away with a soft noise of apology, verbally stumbling, “Oh! I’m so sorry, didn’t realize you were-!”

“It’s alright, Jamie, it’s alright. You aren’t making me uncomfortable.” Asra pads over and pats him on the shoulder to comfort him. Jamie blinks up at him, notices that he’s still bare chested and immediately looks away again, Asra can feel his magic inside of him tingling like embers coming off of a furnace. “Would you like me to change somewhere else?” He asks seriously.

Jamie’s face is  _ bright  _ scarlet, he looks a bit like he’s trying his best to turn himself into a tomato. When he clears his throat he speaks rapidly, like each word is racing to be first, “No no no it’s okay, I don’t mind! I mean… I-I was just… surprised is all!” He flickers his gaze to the side, sort of in Asra’s direction but just shy of his form, as he worms his hands in his lap.  _ Oh,  _ Asra thinks to himself with a delicious twist in his stomach,  _ that’s simply too cute.  _

Asra raises an eyebrow dubiously but eventually concedes, returning to the chest to finish taking off his clothes and replacing them with clean ones. Once he’s done he pulls his boots back on over his socks so he can take their clothes outside, murmuring softly to Jamie to let him know he would only be a minute. Then he closes the door to keep the heat in before he goes about using his magic to wash the mud off of their clothes, then drying them in the open air outside. He does this next to Muriel, who is getting close to finished chopping some wood for the fire, he doesn’t look up as Asra walks out and starts to cast spells beside him. 

Now that he has him alone, he has a few questions to ask. “Are you alright?” Asra asks softly and seriously, glancing over to look at his friend as he cleans his and Jamie’s clothes. 

Muriel glances back at him with a muted expression, scowling a little before he nods, bringing down the axe to split the wood. Asra has tried to convince Muriel that there was a magical way to do this task but he said he likes doing it this way, so it became his chosen chore, though Asra suspects he’s doing it now as a way of coping with Jamie being here. Muriel speaks then in a deep undertone, pulling Asra out of his thoughts, “The hunters are going deeper into the forest.” 

Asra furrows his brow with equal concern, “That net was far too large and intricate to be for people hunting for food.” 

Muriel preps another piece of wood to be chopped as he growls, his gaze is blackened and far away, “It’s to catch animals for the Coliseum.” 

_ Oh.  _ Asra’s gaze darkens as he briefly halts in his task, the implications of the trap they stumbled across getting suddenly much more complicated. If they hadn’t intervened, then the spirit of the forest would have fallen into the hands of the gladiatorial arena. 

It had only just been built by decree of Count Lucio when he returned from the battlefield, but there was apparently another war to win as the Count only stayed in Vesuvia just long enough to suddenly - and impulsively if the rumors are true - get married to the Seventh Princess of Prakra. Then he was leaving again to fight with the armies in the south, leaving said Princess now Countess in charge of the city. Asra thought it was for good riddance because he’s seen enough of the Count to know exactly what kind of person he is, and it’s  _ not  _ the kind he wants to be a hands-on ruler. 

“They aren’t seriously going to have gladiator matches… are they?” Asra asks with a worried glance over to the chopping block.

Muriel doesn’t answer, but after cutting the last of the wood he drops the axe and starts to stack a pile of wood into his arms, one piece at a time with exquisite care. 

After a moment, still dying to know, Asra turns the topic to something more pleasant. “Well… what do you think of Jamie?” 

Muriel pauses, briefly glancing at the door of his hut before he mutters with a disgruntled air, “He seems okay.” 

Asra immediately beams. “Oh? Do you like him?” He finishes up washing his and Jamie’s clothes with his magic and folds them in his arms, turning to look at Muriel with an intrigued raise in his brow. 

Muriel grumbles incoherently, just soft enough that Asra can’t understand him, but before he can question him further he marches towards his hut with sudden purpose, like he’s late in putting the wood away. Asra chuckles at him and follows, letting it go for the time being as they enter the hut together. 

Inside, Jamie is lying next to the waning fire under a bundle of furs, one arm out gently scratching Faust beneath her chin. When the pair walk in he stops and sits up slightly, watching with wide eyes as Muriel sets down the stack of wood next to the firepit and adds some wood to the fire, stacking it with meticulous care around the existing, if waning log. As he steps back the fresh wood begins to catch, and the entire space begins to illuminate and brighten with the more substantial light. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs softly to Muriel, his eyes appearing just like liquid gold in the brilliant firelight as he looks up to the other. 

Muriel immediately flushes, he looks off to the side with a deep carmine crawling across his skin before he stands upright as Asra sets Jamie’s now-clean clothes on the table. He glances at Asra only briefly before he grumbles, “I should… feed the chickens.” With that he grabs a satchel of feed from the door and leaves, shutting the door behind him once he’s gone and leaving the pair alone in the hut once more. 

Asra looks to Jamie and spies the slightly crestfallen look on his face, with an encouraging murmur he approaches and sits down beside him by the fire, “Don’t worry. He’s actually warming up to you rather quickly.” 

Jamie gives him a slightly dubious, misbelieving expression as he sits up all the way, crossing his legs beneath him as he starts to shift his furs on his shoulders. Asra watches with a raised eyebrow until Jamie lifts the furs upward and beckons with his other hand. Asra realizes then that he has a deal to fulfill. 

So he gets beneath the furs with Jamie, though he is mindful to keep his arms to himself once he’s beneath them. Jamie adjusts himself accordingly, shifting so that their sides are pressed together beneath the blanket and it’s making Asra’s head a little fuzzy, not just because of his magic but because it’s  _ him.  _ It’s  _ Jamie.  _ It gets that much more intense when Jamie cautiously rests his head on Asra’s shoulder after a few minutes of silence, a deep seated warmth that can’t be contributed to the furs and the fire settling deep within his very bones. He in turn rests his cheek on Jamie’s head, trying not to think about how his sandalwood and cedar scent seems to make his judgement that much more clouded than usual. 

“I’m sorry if I messed up this meeting with your friend.” Jamie mutters after a time sitting together, leaning lightly on Asra’s shoulder. 

Asra blinks in surprise at the sudden declaration, his voice is a soft hum so as not to break the gentle bubble around them, “You haven’t messed up anything, Jamie.” He lets out a disbelieving huff but this time Asra doesn’t let it slide, he reaches down and rests his hand overtop of Jamie’s next to him as he speaks again, “Really. Muriel’s always had a hard time trusting people… the fact that he was willing to take you back to his hut means that he’s getting to know you, and I think that he likes what he’s getting to see.” Jamie’s hands are no longer cold, they’re warm and firm and rough beneath Asra’s subtly searching fingertips as he rubs his skin in a gentle, consoling manner, “This went far better than I could have imagined.” 

Jamie is quiet for a long time, but when he speaks Asra can feel his shoulders shaking slightly as he laughs, “Even though I took you and I through a mudbath to free a massive peryton?” 

Asra chuckles in response and cautiously takes Jamie’s hand to squeeze it between his fingers affectionately, “Even then.” He’s quiet for a moment before he digests what Jamie said fully, and when he does he pulls away slightly so he can see Jamie’s face, “What was it you called it? The spirit of the forest?” 

Jamie blinks and turns to face him as well, Asra realizes at this angle their faces are  _ really  _ close. Close enough that he can see the complexity of the gold, sandstone, and honey in his eyes and the cushion of his lips, they’re slightly chapped from the cold outside and Asra’s eyes can’t stop coming back to re-examine them with every second that drags on. Jamie only pauses for a moment to answer him, “Er… a peryton?” 

Asra looks at him with some minute confusion, though he’s truthfully taking most of his mental capacity to not stare at his lips Jamie doesn’t seem to notice as he elaborates, “... That’s what kind of animal it was. I read about them once, they’re uh… they’re not supposed to be real. But I guess this one was.”

Silence. “Oh. Interesting.” Asra quickly says with a responsive expression after a too-long pause, he keeps looking back _ down,  _ how can someone feel so close yet so achingly far all at once? “I’ve never heard of such a creature.” 

Jamie swallows and Asra swears he can see his gaze flicker downwards between them for a moment, but he also isn’t entirely sure because he got distracted by the bob of his throat.  _ Oh.  _ “They’re… pretty interesting creatures. Um… They’re part deer and part hawk, but I always thought they’d have claws for feet, not hooves… He had… big hooves…” His low, murmuring voice trails off as he licks his lips, once again sending Asra’s thoughts spiraling into a starry abyss at the motion. Did they grow closer, or is he just that lost in his gaze? It feels like he’s walking towards the horizon in search of the dawning sun and he’s close, he’s so close… 

The door opens again and Jamie snaps his face forward so fast Asra’s incredulous he didn’t hurt his neck. Muriel’s footsteps approach them from behind before out of his peripheral Asra sees his friend sink down to sit by the fire beside him, though there’s more space between him and Asra than between Asra and Jamie. As if sensing this Jamie shifts, giving Asra a little room to breathe and pipes up then with a cleared throat, “How are the chickens?” 

Muriel blinks at him for a moment with a skeptical look, silent for a time before he answers with a deep, quiet voice, “... They’re alright.” 

Jamie nods appreciatively, hugging his knees loosely, “That’s good to hear.” 

With the motion, Asra’s gaze is drawn back to his startlingly revealed hands, dextrous, pale fingers like shards of the moon, and in the firelight Asra swears he sees a dark mark on a part of his palm. After he looks a little closer he realizes that his eyes are not, in fact, tricking him. On the stretch of muscle of his thumb, beneath his life line, there’s a strange symbol; it appears to be a wolf’s paw print with strange swirls in each of the pads. It isn’t inked into his skin like a tattoo would be, however… it’s scarred, rather darkly, it looks like a burn. But it’s in such a strange pattern, it couldn’t have been accidental. 

Asra has to ask. He is about to reach out to touch Jamie but stops himself just before he can carry out his plan, instead he sets his arms on either side of him casually as he speaks in a soft voice to Jamie, “I’ve never seen a mark like that before.” 

Jamie tenses immediately like a length of grass held taut between two sets of fingers, looking over at Asra with wide eyes like he just told him to dance naked in front of them. “On your palm.” Asra clarifies, gesturing with a slight nod of his head. 

Jamie looks down at his hands as if he’s seeing them for the first time, fully revealing the symbol to the firelight. It’s only for a second, however, as he then quickly shoves his hands between his thighs and shrugs, “I dunno where or how I got it.” Jamie answers his slightly indirect question. Looking deeply into the light of the fire his voice drops to take on a more dreamy quality, “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. Anyone I’ve ever asked doesn’t know what it’s for, but… people would always look at it weird when I’m not wearing gloves. So I usually cover it up… so it doesn’t freak anyone out.” He looks down at his lap, his shoulders curling slightly inward in a way that Asra’s unfortunately recognizes. 

Muriel pokes the fire with a long stick, speaking with the same, grumbling tone as before, “Why would anyone care about a mark if no one knows what it means?”

Asra nods, tilting his head in Muriel’s direction as he adds on, “You shouldn’t feel the need to cover up parts of yourself just because other people might stare.” He reaches out towards Jamie with a hand, asking silently for his hand. 

Jamie blinks at him with wide eyes, hesitating for a long moment before he puts his marked hand in his. Asra smiles and flips his palm up, running his thumb across the paw mark; he feels that it’s dark red, raised tissue like that of a scar or a burn, surprisingly soft unlike the skin around it. “... It’s a part of you.” He begins again, looking up at Jamie with a serious expression, “You should never feel the need to hide parts of yourself against your will.” 

Jamie flounders a little and smiles secretively, slowly pulling his hand back to his chest. After a while conversation flows naturally between the trio, even as Muriel adds another log to the fire time seems to lose its linearity until at some point when Muriel is adding another log to the fire Jamie jumps, “... We’ve been here a long time.” He mutters, his eyes wide. 

Asra nods and glances towards the door, “It’s definitely nighttime by now.” 

Jamie flounders and stands upright, quickly Asra moves to rise with him to support him in case he needs it but he seems more than able to stand on his own as he gasps, “I need to get home!” 

Asra furrows his brow but before he can actually argue Muriel mutters, “The forest is dangerous. It’ll be worse at night.” 

In his heart a new warmth begins to spread as he regards his friend. “... Exactly.” He puts that thought on the side for the moment as he turns to look at Jamie, “It’s dark out now, and who knows what you might encounter on the way back to the city? It’ll be safer if-” 

Jamie quickly shakes his head, pulling on his cloak where he had it hung to warm by the fire as he talks, “I can’t, I really can’t, Ksasthra will already be furious enough that I’ve stayed out so late, I can’t just… not come home!” 

Ah, right. Jamie’s landlord, who also lives with him. He’s told Asra a bit about him, but really all he knows is that Ksasthra offered Jamie a place to stay when he first got to the city and apparently has a lot of house rules about Jamie’s comings and goings. “But once you explain in the morning, I’m sure he’ll understand, he wouldn’t want you to be out in the forest this late if he cared about your safety.” Asra argues, watching Jamie collect his stuff with a flicker of concern in his features and in his heart. 

“No, no, I can’t explain because he doesn’t know that you and I are-” Jamie freezes so fast it’s like he suddenly became a ice sculpture, standing with his clothes in his hands with his back halfway to the pair by the fire. Glacially he turns, his shoulders rising and then sinking as the tension imbued in him bleeds into his actions as he lets out a slow sigh. “... Ksasthra can’t know that I was with you.” He mutters after a breath, like it pains him to say it.

Asra raises an eyebrow rather incredulously, glancing over at Muriel to see if he’s also hearing this and sees that his friend is stock still, watching with a shrouded gaze in the firelight. “What do you mean he can’t know you were with me?” Asra asks with a furrowed gaze, apprehension settling into his own limbs to the point that he doesn’t even realize he’s tense until he feels Faust gliding up his leg to join him, her essence purposefully radiating tranquility to inspire him to do the same. He takes a deep breath, and gives her a grateful look as she collects herself on his shoulder. 

Jamie sets his clothes down, turning to explain with wild motions of his hands, “I don’t know why, he just- he saw you and I together after the first show a while back and he told me that you weren’t to be trusted and that I needed to stay away from you.” Asra blinks incredulously as Jamie continues with rapid words and jerky movements, “But I couldn’t do that! You’re the only friend I’ve made since coming to this city…! Well, besides Adelisa but I don’t really go out with her often-” He cuts himself off again to take a shallow breath, he takes a step towards Asra as he speaks with such a heartbreaking tone it makes the lingering tension in Asra’s limbs abate, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings, or make you think that he’s a bad person… I just… wanted to keep spending time with you…” He trails off, hanging his head and curling his shoulders inward towards his chest, his hands grasping his own elbows. 

Asra approaches him and gently touches his shoulder, but when Jamie doesn’t stop hanging his head he gently touches his chin with his fingertips to bring his gilded gaze up to meet his. “It’s alright.” He murmurs softly, “Thank you for telling me now.” 

Whatever tension that was left in Jamie’s shoulders is gone with the statement, he lets out a deep sigh of relief before he starts to speak again, “I realized soon after he told me that that just wasn’t true, what he said about you, but I can’t risk my bed or my job at the theater-”

“What’s he have to do with your job at the theater?” Asra asks softly, attempting to hold him grounded with his hands on his shoulders. 

Jamie pauses, looking at Asra with a stunned look before he seems to shake off his surprise, “He… Ksasthra’s the manager at the theater. He’s the only reason I’ve got a place to sleep and a job. I owe him everything.” Asra frowns deeper as Jamie huffs, rubbing his arms beneath his cloak, “I usually would never do anything to spit in the face of everything he’s done for me, but… well, everyone makes mistakes, no one’s perfect. Maybe his is just a bit of a misconception about magicians… and it’s not like he doesn’t have anything to base it on, he was just worried about me being taken advantage of…” 

Jamie trails off and anxiously looks between Asra and Muriel, but Asra’s thoughts are no longer on this plane of existence. In his mind’s eye he tries to imagine who this Ksasthra is, what they look like, but he can’t manage to put a face to the name. He thought perhaps he had given him a reading he didn’t want to hear in the past, or a charm that didn’t work as planned, but he doesn’t think he’s ever had any interactions with this person that could have led for this level of distrust from a stranger to tell Jamie this… 

Asra’s deeply unsettled by this new information. If Asra were in Jamie’s place, he would have a lot of anxieties about having his source of everything - lodging, food, income, basic human needs - to come from one source, and for said source to have such vocal… opinions about what Jamie does.

Jamie’s voice breaks Asra out of his thoughts, “I’m sure he’d like you, Muriel. You seem a trustworthy sort.” Asra blinks and looks over to see Jamie smiling sheepishly at his friend, who still sits close to the fireside. He flushes a little at the compliment, however, and shifts uncomfortably on the furs in response but doesn’t otherwise say anything or move. 

It brings the needed smile to Asra’s face. “... So we should probably be getting you home.” He hums as he affectionately straightens Jamie’s cloak on his shoulders before he turns to collect his own coat by the fire. 

Both Jamie and Muriel start talking at once, but Jamie stops talking immediately when he realizes that Muriel’s speaking so Asra hears his old friend first, “But… It’s dangerous out there!”

Jamie nods in agreement as Asra turns about, fixing a scarf around his neck and the under half of his face, Faust wastes no time getting tangled in it as Jamie speaks, “And I’m more than capable of defending myself. I don’t want you to be out so late if you don’t need to be.”

Asra shakes his head sternly as he turns towards the two, “You shouldn’t be using any magic after the exertion you were put through today, nor should you travel through the woods alone at night.” He glances over at Muriel and gives him a gentle look as he adds, “I’ll stay in the city for the night and come back tomorrow.” 

The apprehension in Muriel’s shoulders seems to ease at the promise, though he still has his hands clenched into anxious fists on the earthen floor. Jamie furrows his brows as he hugs his clothes to his chest, “Are you sure about this? I really don’t mind walking back alone.” 

Asra smiles softly at Jamie and fondly pats his shoulder, “I’m positive.”

They strike out as soon as Asra and Jamie are sufficiently bundled. The night air is chill and crisp, not quite wintry but it spells expectation for the coming winter frost, the trees now cast in hues of inky blues and grays with the overhead moonlight that manages to penetrate the canopy. Asra produces an orb of light to help them see as they travel, and fortunately the wildlife doesn’t seem to pay them any mind, Asra sees nothing, no eyes or hide of any watchers of their journey. It’s for the best; with all the adventure they’ve had today, the last thing Asra wants is for something else to happen. As they walk Jamie loops an arm in Asra’s, he thinks it’s partially for warmth but also for comfort of his presence in the darkness, and Asra wouldn’t trade the feeling of Jamie’s arm in his for anything. 

They make it to the city without incident, all the way down to south end where Jamie lives. It’s not terribly late in the night, there are still some patrons of bars stumbling about as they enter the city proper, and in comparison to the deep darkness of the forest the dark streets of Vesuvia are as bright as midday. 

Jamie stops when they get close to where Asra’s small storage roof is, still several blocks away from his own home and turns to Asra with a sheepish expression, “Are you upset with me that I didn’t tell you about what Ksasthra said?” 

Asra swiftly shakes his head, giving Jamie a genuine, easy smile, “Of course not. I’m just grateful you didn’t take his words at face value.” 

Jamie lets out a soft breath of relief, smiling as well as he hums in a thoughtful manner, “Me, too.” 

They continue on a little longer until they get to Asra’s place, he stops there and makes a motion with his hand, “It’s probably for the best that you don’t walk me to my door, so…” He gestures a thumb to Asra’s front door, “At least I can walk you to yours?” 

Asra glances at his hands, still gloveless and like marble in the dim light of the streetlamps, and a gentle ache seizes his chest. “Will it always be this way?” 

Jamie blinks in surprise, his hands stalling a little as he steps closer to him in the doorway, “What do you mean?” 

Asra really should leave well enough alone. He should be grateful that Jamie had ignored Ksasthra’s advice and leave it at that, but the unrest in his heart won’t let him sit idle. “Will you always walk  _ me _ to  _ my _ door? Will you have to always sneak around, hiding me from your home, from your  _ performances…  _ because of your master?” He emphasizes on the performances because it’s something he’s particularly hurt about; Jamie had evaded telling him when his shows were, when he was working, and for the longest time Asra wondered why he felt the need to hide that when he should be proud of the work he does… but now it makes perfect sense. It was at his work that Ksasthra had seen them together, after all. 

Jamie tenses at this, immediately he sets his jaw and snaps, “Ksasthra is  _ not _ my master.” 

Asra blinks, then clears his throat and casts his gaze downward, inspecting Jamie’s boots. After a moment he murmurs cautiously, “... I didn’t mean to offend you. I just… don’t want for you to potentially get hurt trying to hide…” He trails off, unsure of what to call what they have. Is Jamie hiding  _ him?  _ Or his  _ relationship  _ with him? What relationship exactly is that? To Ksasthra, or at least what he must perceive? To Jamie? Asra isn’t sure what that answer is, and he’s not sure he wants to know it.

Jamie crosses his arms slightly, glancing down the alley they are in on either side of him as he mutters, “I’ve been doing just fine for a few months, now. I’ll be fine.” 

This does nothing to ease Asra’s concerns. He can feel his gaze listing down the street and falling out of focus as his thoughts awaken and wordlessly buzz in his ears, full of half formed questions. 

Jamie watches him for a long moment, after a lengthy pause he lets out a gentle breath and reaches out to Asra. His hand cups his jaw and his thumb brushes against his cheekbone in such a gentle gesture that Asra immediately can’t help but lean into it with a slight flutter of his silvery eyelashes. Jamie’s voice is sweet and apologetic as he murmurs, “Asra… I’m not hiding you because I’m ashamed of being around you.” 

Asra’s eyes snap into focus then, zoning in on the swirling gold gaze, as malleable and warm as clay, as Jamie continues in a tender voice just below a whisper, “I want you to know that. It’s nothing to do with you, your magic, none of that. I love being around you, you are a good person and I love spending time with you. I don’t want to lose that, and for that I’m willing to do a little sneaking.” He pauses then, looking off down the street as if he’s worried of someone listening as he mutters with a shy aside, “But only if you are.”

Asra has had hundreds of occasions where he’s been tempted to lean in and kiss Jamie, but now is probably the strongest compulsion he’s ever felt it, all other times pale in comparison to this one moment. He swallows, his thoughts drift down the path of what could happen if he were to as he speaks without much thought, “I’d do anything to spend more time with you.” 

Jamie blinks at him with an owlish gaze, his hand on his cheek going rigid. Asra blinks and realizes his words seconds too late, but just as quickly as the tension appears it’s gone. Jamie runs his thumb fondly along Asra’s jaw for a moment before he pulls away, smiling at him brilliantly like a deity in the low lamplight before he states, “I’m glad to hear it.” He glances up the street again and then takes a step back, raising a hand as he murmurs, “Goodnight, Asra.” 

Asra’s heart hammers in his throat as he watches him turn to walk away, quickly calling before he gets too far, “Goodnight, Jamie!” 

Even after Jamie’s dark hair is gone from sight and his footsteps out of earshot, his touch lingers on Asra’s jaw and cheek for hours after. Hours, deep into the night, as Asra lies in bed in a muddle of blankets and pillows that he can’t configure in a comfortable way no matter how hard he tries, for hours he thinks about his warm touch, his eyes of molten gold in the firelight of Muriel’s hut, his breath mixing with his as they lingered so close for that one moment, that moment where everything almost came together. For hours Asra lay in bed, aching for another body next to his,  _ on  _ his, touching him, whispering to him, feeling that breath on his neck, that warm touch on his everything, his hands, his arms, his chest,  _ him.  _ For hours he longed to get to know more of Jamie, greet the scars on his back and kiss the pain they must cause away, trace Jamie’s history in his skin and revere it just for what it is. Behind fevered eyelids, fantasies and dreams mixed into memory and wanting, leaving Asra unable to rest a wink, not with his thoughts racing like a wild stallion in a field. Thinking about how much he ached for his touch and his voice and his past. He wants it all, he wants all of his past, his present, he wants all of Jamie, he wants  _ Jamie.  _

When Asra saw the light of dawn beginning to bleed into the little window, he knew he could deny it no longer. He certainly has feelings for Jamie. Strong ones. 

And they aren’t going away any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can yall tell Asra's yearning? Cause I think he might be yearning.


	5. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time flows on, and Jamie watches with pride as Asra starts to establish himself within the city, opening his own shop outside of the market stalls and gaining a permanent residence in the city all his own that isn't the size of a closet. Slowly Jamie is growing closer and closer to Asra, and eventually Muriel, though the giant man still has many walls up. Walls that Jamie wants to help with, given the chance. As Jamie and Asra grow closer, so too do Jamie and Muriel, but the honeymoon phase of their friendship, a year in the making, won't last forever. Only for so long can illusions be kept up.  
> After all, actions have consequences.  
> \--  
> **Warning: abusive language & physical abuse at the end of the chapter**

_Thin, towering pines, daggered leaves digging into the soles of my feet as I leap over a set of gnarled tree roots. Darkness cut into strips by sharp white moonlight turns the rough bark into the keys of a pipe organ, it’s hard to see through the peeling shadow. I run with eyes licking my heels, the slapping of bare feet on the pine needled earth and my own rapid breath making my ears rattle like chains._

_I hear it again, suddenly ringing out in the black forest like a fox’s scream; the cracking of a whip, the terrifying gush of wind that happens when it’s right next to your ear kisses my cheek. I wince and nearly fall in my mad rush but by the miracle of a sticky conifer I manage to force myself back on the path away, away, as far away as I can. I see the silvery outline through the black trees, the end is close, so close, I just have to get there and then I’ll be safe-_

_Another crack, closer now, I can almost feel it lick my shoulderblade, and this time a voice calls out to me with the snap of the whip._ **_Her_ ** _voice. “Change for me, boy! Change, change!”_

_Crack. A root grabs my ankle in a painful shock up my leg, I kick it off but I can’t stop, I have to keep going. Crack. She’s almost here. I force myself onward, onward, my feet pound the earth, I have to get away-_

**_Crack._ **

_Blinding pain explodes behind my eyes, the darkness fades for a second and everything is bright white and agonizing until the white fades into full black, I fall on my face. The snapping pain burns and seethes on my back in a familiar manner, I know this pain, I know it, that means it’s her, it burns, no, please-!_

_A tongue of leather presses against the middle of my back. Everything in my blood freezes as that laughing voice chastises me in my ear, “Come on, now, boy! You wouldn’t run away from little old me, would you?”_

I burst upright with a sudden gasp, my hands launching to my shoulders as the familiar ache pulses and flares like a lantern being lit. My clothes are rimmed with frosted sweat and my blankets feel too hot and yet too cold all at once. I have to close my eyes and take deep breaths, forcing my hands to return to my lap as I will the sting of the faux lash to fade out of my consciousness. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. _It wasn’t real._

I glance out the small window by my bed and see that the sun has begun to rise over Vesuvia. As I run my fingers through my sweat-streaked hair I figure now is as good a time as any to get up… after a quick bath. Even though I’m helping Asra move boxes today, I don’t want to show up already sweaty. I could have a true bath when I return, I just need to… well… at least look _presentable_ for now. 

So I disentangle myself from my blankets, shuffling with a fresh change of clothes to the modest washroom down the hall from Ksasthra’s room. I fill a bucket with water from the spigot just outside and take it back into the washroom before I get undressed, not bothering to heat it up; even though I’ve been taking the opportunity to practice the fire spell that Asra taught me, I figure the chill will help wake me up and shake this dream out of my thoughts so I can focus for the day ahead. 

I thread my fingers through my hair and run water down my scalp, shivering as gooseflesh rises from the cold water racing down my arms and then my back, which still continues to throb in its ghost aches. I rub the muscles under my shoulderblades and up as far as I can get my arms to reach, hoping to numb the nonexistent sting with the icy water. I feel the scar tissue beneath my fingertips, pillowy and soft like smoothed clay. 

Winters in Vesuvia are nothing like the winters in Thavuntis. Winters here are like summers there, though apparently it snowed heavier here than it has in the past five years. I was incredulous, I was getting ready for the worst but then suddenly flowers were beginning to bloom again and people at the theatre were talking about how grateful they were that spring was finally upon them. I simply stared. _That_ was winter? It was barely anything at all compared to the north! 

I suppose it must just be naturally warmer in the south; it makes sense, as now that summer is beginning once again the heat is becoming something of a beast that I don’t remember being as much of a problem last year. I feel as if I’m constantly sweating, even in only two layers I have a perpetual sheen of sweat on my back at all times like a second skin. I think I had just told myself before that it was probably just a terrible heat wave and that it would pass. But it doesn’t pass. It’s just hot here, and I wasn’t ready for it, even a year later. 

Though, now that I think about it, it puts together a lot of pieces; the relatively strange way the people here are dressed, always with chests, backs, or shoulders - or a combination thereof - exposed, airy tunics, skirts and dresses, and open-toed sandals a common sight. It’s warm here, of course people tend to wear looser clothing to reflect that. It’s different than what I was once used to, but now it feels as if I’ve seen it my whole life. 

I go about rinsing the sweat off as my thoughts continue to drift and float freely. It makes sense that winter felt short as well because of Asra’s trip. A few weeks after I’d met Muriel - Asra’s best friend, and an absolute _mountain_ of a man - he had suddenly up and taken a journey to go get reagents, so he said. It was weird not to see him for such a long period of time, though I did end up spending some of that time with Muriel, at Asra’s request to check up on him. Asra insists that Muriel does like me, but I can’t help but get the feeling that Muriel merely tolerates my presence because his true affinity is for Asra, and because Asra likes me, he will allow me to exist around him. 

We got to talking a little more, though, and at some point he had asked me about my magic. I’d told him as much as I could but something about my explanation, or lack thereof I should say, seemed to upset him. He wanted me to try and teach him how to change his shape, but I can barely describe how to do to myself, nevertheless how to do it for someone else, it was a rather hopeless venture and he became distressed enough about it to leave me by myself in the forest. I only returned to his hut when Asra came back at the tail end of winter and we went there together; Muriel made no hint of our conversation to Asra, nor treated me any differently than before, so I thought whatever he was upset about was now under the rug. 

But needless to say, we have a bit of a conflicting relationship… which is honestly _terrible_ news because I so desperately wanted him to like me. 

Asra took another trip about a month ago when spring was in full swing, the day after we had gone on a picnic in the forest. He had told me he had decided to open up a shop, and that he had a placed lined up in the middle sector; he would move in after he got more reagents to replenish his stock. 

I was absolutely enthused to hear it, happy for his success. His stall in the market _was_ becoming rather popular, his name tends to come up in idle conversation in some actor circles at the theatre. Truly, I’m proud of and glad for him. It’s what he deserves for all the hard work he’s been doing. 

He’d found me outside the fisherman’s stall in the shopping district yesterday; I thought it was a hazy dream, seeing his charming smile and that shock of white hair through the crowd. He hugged me and while I finished my shopping for groceries he told me a little about his travels, we got dinner together after and while we were eating he asked me if I could help him move his stores to his new shop today, which of course I eagerly agreed to do. I wasn’t working today anyway, I was wondering what I was going to be doing and spending time with Asra is by far the preferred option after he’d been gone for so long. 

I didn’t realize how quickly important Asra became a part of my life until he was gone from it for weeks at a time. Adelisa even asked me if everything was alright between Asra and I last week because she hadn’t had to cover for me for a while. 

At the thought, I glance towards the doorway of the washroom as I douse the chilling water on my head again to ensure I got all the sweat out of my hair. I did put the lock on, something I only would’ve done when Ksasthra isn’t home because he dislikes it when I lock myself in any room, washroom or otherwise. I’m unsure why, but it scared me bad enough that now I try to work my schedule around Ksasthra’s comings and goings. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by what I’m up to, if he wants to see me then nothing will stop him, he has come into the washroom twice to talk to me while I was showering and he didn’t seem to give a single care in the world at the fact that I was as naked as the day I was born. 

After Ksasthra… almost a _year_ ago now, I realize, as the troupe has already begun preparations for the performance for the Masquerade… told me to avoid Asra, I went to Adelisa for advice. Beyond those two, she was the only one I knew well enough at the time to talk to and trust her judgement on what I should do. She’d listened and after I told her what I was dealing with she offered to tell Ksasthra that I was with her whenever I was with Asra, and she would always tell him that I was if he were to ask. That way, I could go out and see Asra with relative freedom, so long as Adelisa’s known schedule also coincided with it. 

It worked surprisingly well; Ksasthra trusts Adelisa, so whenever I said I was with her he wouldn’t question me anymore on what exactly it was that we would be or were doing. I’m a little ashamed to say I became adept with coming up with lies; out shopping on the market, eating dinner uptown, drinking in the Shopping District. But it worked, and that’s what matters. Today, I know he’s at the theatre for most of the day, talking to and helping the set designers, so I’m free to leave without questions, at least until later. 

I get dressed once I’m finished washing up, shivering only a little until I make it outside onto the street, braiding my hair tightly back so it’s out of my face. I’ve taken to dressing only in two layers, an undershirt and a tunic, but today because I knew I would probably be carrying things I only wear the tunic; I can’t help but feel strangely exposed, wearing so little, but in comparison to native Vesuvians I know I must look rather conservative. It’s just what I’m used to, but I haven’t made enough money to go shopping for more clothes for myself just yet so it’s what I’m stuck with for the time being. Asra’s sense of fashion is rather nice, very colorful, perhaps I’ll ask his opinion for when the time comes… But I don’t know if I would look good in what he wears… Asra would look good in just about anything. Me? … Less so, I’d argue. 

It’s just a few turns down the street before I make it to Asra’s, and even if I didn’t know which door was his I could tell by the time I’d rounded the street corner because of the amount of wooden boxes, each the size of two or three of my satchels, sitting outside. As I approach I hear Asra’s graceful, sweet voice within, “-with me or are you riding in the sweater box?” 

I chuckle as I step just outside the doorway, peering within to see the person in question hovering over a box sitting on a small frame that I think was once his bed but now it lies barren, save for the straw center. A set of wooden crates, about half the size of the crates outside, sit here, Asra’s peering into one in particular that’s resting on top with a bemused raise of his brow, like one looks at a charming rascal of a child. I knock on the open door with a knuckle to announce my presence, calling to him, “If Faust wants to go in the sweater box, let her.”

Asra looks up when I knock and immediately a broad smile stretches across his features. He crosses the room towards me and pulls me into a hug as he beams, “Jamie! Good morning.” I pat his shoulders gently and as he pulls away I approach the bed frame and enter the small home proper to peer inside the box. I can see the lavender snake lying within, rising up to look at me with a fond slope of her neck from among a nest of colorful sweaters made just for her. I reach out and lovingly give Faust the scratches I know she loves directly under her chin, she squirms within the box in delight as Asra murmurs with playful derision under his breath, “How spoiled.” 

I look at him with an incredulously cocked eyebrow, “As if you don’t spoil her every day of her life.” I gesture to the sweaters within the box, ones I learned that Asra had knit for Faust himself - evidently he made enough that he had a whole box devoted to them, and I can’t say that I’m terribly surprised. I know for a fact that I’ve seen her in at least seven different ones. 

“Thank you for helping me move.” Asra murmurs with an affectionate smile flashed in my direction that for some reason makes my pulse stammer in my throat, like I swallowed something wrong. 

I smile right back at him once the feeling subsides, “Of course. I’m only worried about whether we can get it all today.” I gesture to the crates on the street and the boxes within the hovel, which stack to the low ceiling. _How does Asra have so much stuff?_

“Don’t worry, it’s not all heavy. Just unwieldy. I’ll repay you with lunch and dinner… and my company if you so wish it.” Asra waves a hand towards himself, while his words are playful the scarlet in his face makes the gesture more sincere. 

“Of course I wish it! You just got back from your trip, I demand extra company as recompense.” I wave offhandedly with a joking smile, moving outside and onto the street where the crates have spilled out. I reach down and lift up a box and find it incredibly light, so I stack a second and then a third on top of it, where I stop stacking so I can see over the top of the box. I then turn towards Asra with a raised eyebrow, “Alright then, lead the way!” 

Asra’s face is a little red when I look at him, but whatever strangeness in his expression is gone when he laughs at me with a bright smile that warms my chest in an inexplicable way. He hurries to grab the rest of the crates off the street, shoving the ones he can’t carry back inside so he can do a cross-me-knot on the door before he bustles with me down alleyways and up stairs towards his shop. I’d learned from him how to do a cross-me-knot the second time we went to Muriel’s together, because his hut has one on the front door. It’s an interesting spell, unlike any type of magic I’ve ever done and I struggled with it because I _apparently_ kept tearing down the enchantment instead of simply opening it, which didn’t make _any sense-_ but I learned. Asra is a good and patient teacher, unlike any other I’ve had, so it was enjoyable to learn despite it being so frustrating. 

When we arrive to his new shop, I can’t help but wonder at how he’d landed such a sweet deal. It’s a newer, standalone building with two stone steps leading up to a wooden framed door on the corner of the second tiered street that leads up towards the first tier, where the noble houses live as well as where the palace is - I learned only a week ago that that’s called the Heart or the Floating District, which just goes to show how often I’m there. A sign hangs on a horizontal post jutting off from the building but it is unpainted and unadorned, not yet decorated for the new inhabitant within. Asra touches the door with a free hand, and I watch as a pulse of magic flutters from his fingertips and into the wood as he unlocks it and heads inside. I’ve grown more sensitive and keen to when he casts magic as of late, I figure it’s because I’m watching for new spells to learn. After learning the cross-me-knot, it’s like a new world of spells have opened themselves up to me, like learning a new word and suddenly hearing it used everywhere because I’m sensitive to it. It’s remarkable… and kind of exciting.

The inside of the shop is quaint but homey, the rafters arc in gentle, low slopes over our heads and before us is a long, wooden counter. Behind it is a tall, massive row of shelves that cover the entire back wall, no stone peeking through. Next to it, in the far left hand corner of the room, there’s a thick, maroon, velvet curtain, drawn to the side on a golden chord that reveals a small room behind the counter where sits a small, round table with two different colored blankets thrown haphazardly overtop of it. 

“I managed to move some things in before I travelled.” Asra says when he notices me looking at the curtain and the table. “Muriel built these and helped me set them up in here the week before.” He gestures to the table and the shelves after he puts down the boxes on the wooden counter. 

I blink and stare at the wooden pieces with fresh appreciation, setting my boxes down next to Asra’s. Now that I’m really looking, I see that they all have a certain rustic charm to them that really makes the space as homey as it is, and for a moment I find myself stupified. “He built all these himself? That’s… that’s so impressive.” 

“You should tell him that next time we see him.” Asra murmurs with a slight smile as he leans on the counter next to me, looking upwards. When I follow his gaze I see a hidden area where a set of stairs lead upwards, and disappear onto a second floor. 

“Where’s that lead?” I ask curiously, eyeing the stairs. 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me and reaches down to take my hand, “I’ll show you.” 

He guides me to the stairwell where he releases my hand, it’s rather small so we have to go one after the other up the steps to reach the second floor. Up here, I can tell he’s definitely made some efforts moving in before he left for his journey, because I can see signs of this space being lived in. There’s a small kitchen area to the right with a cast iron stove, a bit of a sitting area for eating and behind a sheer curtain lies a large bed, pillows and blankets thrown about like the sleeper only just arose, with a series of iron gated windows on the far wall, the morning sunlight streams in just shy of the large wooden frame. “Muriel didn’t make that one.” Asra answers my unspoken question when he sees me absorbing the size of the bedframe. “A fur trader down the street was having a sale on their unwanted items, and this happened to be one of them… They were quite eager to get rid of it.”

“Hope that means it didn’t have bugs.” I tease, glancing at him momentarily as I turn about in a circle slowly to digest the space. “This is a really nice place for you.” I murmur, looking about the second floor of the shop with newfound appreciation. That stove looks especially nice, though as I look at it and the chimney into the ceiling, I realize it’s rather high end. “How did you have the money to get all this?” I ask, turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. 

Asra looks off to the side with an embarrassed expression as he waves a hand dismissively towards the doorway, “I uh… did a small favor for the Countess. It was a series of readings, some personal, others political. She paid rather generously… I think it may have been for my silence about the matter.”

I raise an eyebrow at him with a quirk of my lips, teasing him with a prod of my elbow, “Oh wow, look at you, servicing nobles now. Don’t forget about the little folk on your rise to the top.” 

Asra rolls his eyes at me and swats at my arm playfully, “I’m not about to go joining the bourgeoisie for a few three card readings. I rather consider it to be… a personal investment in my business.”

I giggle at this but otherwise say nothing on the matter, leading us back downstairs instead as I speak, “Thank you for the tour, but we better get back to moving. Your shop won’t start itself!”

Asra chuckles and shakes his head as he follows after me, mumbling, “Suppose it won’t.” 

We spend a majority of the day moving Asra’s boxes from the small room in south end to his shop up in central city. I notice on the walk that his shop is on the slower side of town, there’s not as much foot traffic here as there is on market row where I met him. We stop when it gets to be about noon for lunch, eating together with some food Asra had left unpacked for us to eat before we went right back to it, then again for a small dinner because he still had some nuts and cheese leftover. Before long, the shadows began to grow longer as the day waned, we pushed on, eager to get all of Asra’s stuff moved until just as it would be an hour or two shy of the lanterns being lit on the streets we set down the last of the boxes and collapsed together in the chairs in the back room, at the round table. 

“We finally did it.” Asra exhales with a tired smile, reclining back in the seat with his legs spread before him; I wonder at how somehow Asra manages to look elegant even when in such a lethargic pose. 

“I’m glad we finished before sunset.” I mutter, resting my elbows on the table as Asra hums in response. I’m unsure whether this table is Muriel’s handiwork, but from what I can tell it seems very similar to the craftsmanship in the main shop room, so I assume it is. “It was awful kind of Muriel to make all this furniture for you.” I murmur in wonder, twisting in my seat to run my hand along the back of the chair I sit in, “It must have taken him ages.” 

“He told me it was his early birthday present to me.” Asra answered with a soft chuckle, barely heard with how breathless he is. 

I raise an eyebrow at this and rest my chin in my hand tiredly, “Wow… That’s quite a present. How far away is your birthday from now?” 

“It already passed, while I was travelling.” Asra replies with a dismissive wave. 

Immediately I gasp, looking at him with hurt eyes of utter betrayal, “I missed your birthday?! This is outrageous! You and I are going out for birthday dinner, _pronto._ Understood?” 

Asra looks at me with wide eyes, startled by my outburst and slowly a pink hue glows in his cheeks like a bouquet of hibiscus. “... Well, how can I say no to that?” He shyly smiles and runs a hand idly through his hair then shifts the angle of his scarf across his chest before he suddenly glances over at me with a sudden bursting of light in his eye, “When were you born, Jamie?”

I blink, the sudden energy I’d accumulated leaking as if through a hole in a bucket. I have to think about it for a moment before I’m able to answer, “Oh the uh… the winter solstice.” 

Asra blinks for a moment, visibly pensive before he lets out a soft breath, his gaze listing to the side with a crestfallen expression, “Looks like I missed yours as well.” The look only lasts for a second or two before Asra blinks it out of existence, he reaches across the table and takes my hand as he states with finality, “This year, it’ll be different. We’ll celebrate your birthday together.”

I beam at him with a friendly tap of my fingertips in his palm, “Don’t worry about it, I had a good time. Last year was one of the few times I was able to celebrate with other people for once.”

Asra raises an eyebrow at me but I can feel the line of questions coming, so I stand up instead and interrupt him with a wave towards the door, “Now, how about that birthday dinner? We could go to that place in the Shopping District that has that skink you like so much, _The Lighthouse?”_

Asra’s eyes narrow in suspicion but, I think against his will, light up at the mention of the skink. “... You’ll have to tell me more about your past birthdays later. I need to know what my competition is when I plan for your party.” He stands upright and collects his bag from where he left it on the counter in the front room. 

I stumble after him, stammering, “Party? I don’t- I don’t even know enough people for a party! I mean, I guess there’s the people I work with at the theatre but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us _all_ to get together, Gaius is kind of an asshole-” 

Asra gently rests a hand on my shoulder, kindly shushing me in a surprisingly calming manner before he continues, “Not a party in _that_ sense, don’t worry. You’ll just have to tell me what you want then, won’t you?” He cocks a cheeky brow at me as we leave the shop, turning away to do a cross-me-knot on the door before he leads me down the street and towards the docks, where the Shopping District is. It’s so named so that people coming off of the boats don’t have to travel so far to sell their wares, and eventually it became a hub for other places, such as _The Lighthouse_ to set up. It’s my favorite place to shop because of the sheer variety, every time I go there during prime hours in the afternoon I always find something I’ve never seen before. Never a dull moment in the Shopping District, but especially when ships come in and there’s new things from beyond the sea to sell. 

We make our way to _The Lighthouse,_ which is really just an exotic foods chef who cooks to order a hundred different types of meals, or so it seems. I usually get the first thing that I see that looks good just to keep it simple, because otherwise I get overwhelmed with the choices. It’s light traffic at this time, as it’s getting late in the day, but _The Lighthouse,_ which is in a stand that looks rather like a lighthouse, is jostling with people. Surrounding it are little wooden tables for people to eat their food at, most of which are occupied but I can see a bare few down the street. I turn to Asra once we’re close and gesture with my head, “You want the skink, right?” 

Asra glances at me and then nods with a slight smile, “Blue-tongued skink, yes.” 

I nod back in a mirroring fashion as I point to the tables, “You find us a seat, I’ll get the food. My treat.” He opens his mouth to argue but I silence him with a raise in my eyebrow, “No buts. Consider it my belated birthday present to you.” 

Asra blinks at me with a stunned expression, as he starts to smile with a bit of embarrassment scarlet is creeping along his nose and cheeks. “... Thank you.” 

“No problem.” I gesture for him to go on with my chin, parting ways so I can get in line for ordering food. It takes a little while, and before I got there I was worried about what I would get for Asra if they were out of the skink but fortunately the chef, a big bellied, jovial woman who has the most dazzling smile in Vesuvia I’d wager, told him that they still had a few left, and I’d have my order in a ‘jiffy’. She’s rather eccentric, and one of the best cooks for meat around, so I love her.

With the food at hand I go in search for Asra and for once in my life I find him easily among the crowd, only because his white hair is like a spotlight under one of the lanterns that have just been lit on this street. The sun has set, but the sky is still bright red and orange like spilled paint, though the natural light wouldn’t remain for long. I slide in to sit next to him at the small table he found for us, handing him his wrapped skink before I cross my legs next to him to dig into my chosen food, venison. She’d said it with a foreign accent and spoke of it like it’s something far and wide and hard to get which I found _incredibly_ stupid because in the north, venison was practically the only meat I ever ate because it was cheap and easy to obtain, and things like chicken and skink - which is apparently a type of lizard, I did not know that until Asra told me - were the exotic, expensive things. 

But, then again as I think about it, I realize that forests up there are not like forests down here - I don’t recall there being many forests in my trek to Vesuvia - so perhaps she did have to go far in search for it, because all the types of deer I know of live in such environments, not on plains like what I found around here. Regardless, I got this choice in a weak moment of nostalgia, and as I bite into it I feel as if I could be sitting next to the small, smoky fire with Master Garmel, tired after a long day’s work and content to sit in each other’s company.

Asra hums in a noise of pleasure and it pulls me out of the mental fog, I glance over at him with a dreamy blink as he happily eats his skink. “I think I needed this after all that work we did, today.” He rests a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it affectionately as he peers at me with a serious look, “Thank you for your help, Jamie.”  
I shrug dismissively, smiling a little as I eat my food, “It’s no problem. I used to work on a farm, lifting some boxes and walking up stairs is nothing compared to that.” 

Asra grows pensively quiet at that, regarding me with a curiously scanning look across my features before he murmurs in an intimate voice, “I didn’t know you did that. When? For how long?” 

I furrow my eyebrows in thought, counting in my head. _I’ve been in Vesuvia for a year now, which means that I came south two years ago, which means that I was with Master Garmel four years ago. I’m turning 20 this winter, so that means I was…_ “Just for two years, up until I was sixteen.” I reply after the mental math is done, messing idly with the napkin that came with the venison in my lap.

Asra raises an eyebrow at me with an inquisitive expression. Once that look would’ve made me apprehensive, but it doesn’t elicit that reaction in me anymore; I’m a little nervous, but it’s nothing like it once was, I merely meet his gaze to gauge his reaction and thoughts. He looks back to his skink for a second as he gets another piece to eat before he hums, “How did you end up there?” 

I lean my chin on the table to give my venison my utmost attention. It drips with juice when I take a bite and tears easily in my teeth, here it feels a lot more like a delicacy than it once was. “I was wandering on my own for a while, when I was still past the mountains up north. I got to this small town in the middle of the woods, it was the closest place to society I had been to for a while and I was _starving,_ I think I’d had nothing but roots and stalks for a while at that point… but I uh…” I trail off, giving Asra a rather sheepish, shy smile as I continue, “I was trying to steal some eggs… but then the man selling them caught me. But he didn’t beat me or tell me off like most people did, though, he just grabbed my wrist and told me if I wanted those eggs I’d have to pay for them or work for them.” I mime his finger pointing in a caricature with one hand, glancing over at Asra’s rapt expression only for a moment before I turned my self-conscious gaze back to my venison, “... And I was pretty desperate for some food, so I said I’d work for him. He took me back to his farm, deep in the woods where he had this garden and his chickens and his goats and basically… took me in, I suppose. He… He had me call him Master Garmel… he let me live there for a while, but only if I helped out with the daily chores and with some other stuff, like chopping wood, feeding the chickens… I was just fine most days, but hard work.”

Asra’s eyes are incredibly focused on me, I’ve never felt his gaze more intensely than this moment, his skink forgotten in his fingers. I take a bite out of my venison as he flickers his gaze downward towards the table, after a moment he speaks with a soft voice, “It’s good that someone took you under their wing.” Silence. Pensive. “I… You shouldn’t be ashamed of that. Trying to steal the eggs, I mean. I stole a lot of food as a kid, too. I don’t think I ‘honestly’ earned a meal until I was grown up.” 

I tilt my head to the side as I regard him with warmth, idly I press my knee against his to provide physical comfort as I murmur, “You don’t talk about that time often.” Asra nods, his head visibly in the clouds as I continue, “How did you end up…?” I trail off, realizing the inappropriateness of such a question a few seconds too late. Asra’s gaze, saturated periwinkle in the overhead lantern light, flicker to mine with sparks of pain within so I quickly add, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Or talk about it if it’s too-” 

Asra shakes his head slightly, reaching down and gently patting my hand on the table in condolence, “No, it’s okay.” He looks away from me, to the table top between us as he speaks with a soft voice just above a whisper, “I lived in the city with my parents. I don’t remember how old I was, somewhere around 8 or 9… but one day, they left. I don’t remember why, or where they were going but… all I know is they never came back.” He stops, his shoulders startlingly straight. I reach down and seize his hand where it wrestles with his scarf in his lap, squeezing it comfortingly to pull his gaze away from the past and back to the present. His eyes flicker to mine, then down to my hand in his lap before he continues in a soft voice. “I ended up on the streets with a lot of kids… though their parents were casualties of war… with nothing but my parents’ tarot deck and a book on the Arcana.”

I see his gaze flicker back to his lap again, so I ask quietly, “Is the deck you use for readings…?”

Asra shakes his head, putting down his skink to pat his pocket, “No, I made this one. I… I just could tell that it wasn’t _my_ deck, I suppose, when I tried to use theirs. I got a cheap one from a fortune teller, but it also didn’t really feel right, so I just decided to make my own based on how I understand the Arcana.” 

“Oh.” I nod in faux understanding. Asra’s never really explained exactly how tarot readings work, I know that the Arcana are the figures on the cards that tell him things, I know he uses magic to understand those things, and he does that well I’m given to understand, but beyond that I’ve no clue how it works. “I’m sorry.” I decide to say, squeezing his hand. 

Asra lets out a soft breath, closing his eyes as the tension that had begun to build in his shoulders is released in one, smooth exhale. “It was a long time ago.” He opens his eyes again and fixes his gaze to me, offering me a slight smile, “I’ve found my family… with you. A-and Muriel.” He adds the last bit with a bouquet of cherry blossoms under the skin of his cheeks. 

I can’t help but smile back at him, squeezing his hand one more time before I return to my food. I figure that the conversation will shift then, until Asra asks, “What happened after?” 

I blink and look over at him in confusion, “After what?” 

Asra pauses, he looks to be reconsidering his words for a moment before he finds resolution somewhere in his thoughts as his gaze focuses back on mine, “... Why did you end up leaving your… master’s side?” 

Against my will I stiffen. My throat tightens so suddenly I almost choke on the venison I was working on, and a cold chill races up my spine. I don’t even get a chance to speak before Asra seems to sense these changes in me, his hand touches my lower back as he murmurs, “Jamie? Are you alright?”

I swallow and force the noose around my neck to give away. I look down at the venison on the table and quickly try to loosen the sudden tension by turning to Asra and forcing a smile, “I don’t wanna bring down your birthday dinner. We’re supposed to be celebrating, not dwelling on the past!” 

Asra’s gaze saddens slightly and I feel his hand start to trail up my spine. Immediately I can feel him touching the scars there, through the fabric of only one tunic I suddenly wonder if he could feel them and without thinking I reach about and snatch his wrist. He freezes as soon as I do and I find icicles digging into my chest from his wide eyes of surprise. I loosen my grip, gently guiding his hand to rest in his lap before I let out a slow breath to settle the racing terror in my heart. “... Sorry.” I mumble lamely, clearing my throat after a moment as I rub my shoulders, “I just- I don’t see the good it’ll do for you to know. That’s all.” 

That’s not all, but I want the matter so badly to be put to rest. I feel bad for suddenly snapping like that, I didn’t grab him too roughly or anything but I don’t want him to feel bad for trying to comfort me. He didn’t know what lay under his fingertips… it’s not his fault. 

To my surprise, Asra smiles, hands returning to finishing his skink. “It’s no problem. I only asked to get to know you better, if it’s something you don’t want to share then that’s okay. I understand.” His smiles fades a little as he glances in my direction again, I can see the lavender hues of his gaze flickering towards my shoulder as he adds in a softer, more apologetic voice, “I’m sorry for breaching your boundaries.” 

An ache begins to fester in my chest. I shake my head swiftly and wave him off, “Oh that was fine, I’m- I’m just a little ticklish there, and you surprised me!” I bite into my venison to hide the deep shame that suddenly boils forth from the fact that my immediate reaction is to lie to Asra through my teeth. _I can’t leave it like that._ Quickly I clear my throat and shake my head, “Er… not really. Not actually ticklish. But I’m uh… sensitive there. It’s fine so long as I have some warning.” I quickly amend, feeling immediately better afterwards like my stomach was a coiled in a tight knot that released and settled throughout my body.

Asra’s aura, his essence, his being, intermingled with his magic, seems to warm around him and bleed into me, a comforting presence in the dying quiet of the street. “Of course.” With a slightly bemused, bitter aside he chuckles dryly, “You would think I would be better at reading bodily cues after knowing Muriel for so long.” 

I grin a bit in response at the wry joke, nodding in agreement before a sudden line of thought ignites. Curious and eager for information, I glance over at Asra and decide to try for answers. “You’ve known him for…?”

Asra glances at me as he continues to eat and speaks with a polite hand over his mouth, “Nine years.” 

My eyebrows shoot up at that. “Oh wow. That is a while.” Asra hums with a nod as I continue, “Has he always been so… you know… _averse_ to people?”

Asra immediately nods. “Ever since I knew him. He’s been getting better since moving out of the city, though. It’s…” He pauses, letting out a soft sigh as his shoulders suddenly sink, “People have not always been kind to Muriel. Especially when we were growing up, with the kid gangs.” Asra’s gaze lists off to the side, the rich astral hues like stars in the dim light, “I worry that he’s been beaten out of society so hard and so often that now he doesn’t want to give _any_ people a chance… even though I think he wants to, deep down. He thinks he’s just too… strange, I suppose, to be seen and loved and accepted.” 

Something about Asra’s words strike me straight through my core. I find my gaze following his down the street, like Muriel’s towering shadow is there for us to see. A sense of familiarity pangs deep in my chest, painfully my fingertips lock around the last of my venison. Words start flowing out of my mouth before I can stop them, “While you were gone in the winter, he tried to get me to teach him how to change his shape.” 

Asra’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh? … Did it work?” 

I shake my head, “I’m not a good teacher like you are.” Asra blushes at the compliment but otherwise doesn’t react as I continue, “He just… when I couldn’t show him right, he got upset with me and ran off. I thought I’d just pissed him off, but…” I look at Asra seriously then, my brows drawn tightly together, “After what you said… I have a feeling that he wanted to learn my magic so he could change his face… become someone else.” 

Asra’s gaze darkens slightly at this, his fingertips drum on the table as he folds his cloth, now empty of skink. “As much as I’d like it not to be the case… It might be.” His thoughts seem to flow a like a babbling brooke, his gaze flitting to and fro before he lets out a deep, aching sigh, “I wish I could help him somehow. I don’t know how to prove to him that some people are worth taking a chance on, even though people can hurt him that doesn’t mean all people are going to. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him about this in the past he doesn’t listen to me.” 

A thought occurs to me. It’s barely developed before I’m opening my mouth, words start to tumble out and rest between us, “I could try to talk to him, if you want.” 

Asra blinks at me in surprise and tilts his head to the side to look at me, “You would?” 

I nod, hesitating for a long moment before I meet his gaze, “I uh… I think that I’m uniquely qualified to. I think I could get him to listen to me.” 

Asra touches his lips thoughtfully with his fingertips, watching me with a hooded gaze before he murmurs, “If you think it’ll help, I certainly won’t stop you. Do you want me there?” 

I tilt my head to look at him, “If you think it’ll help.” 

Visibly contemplating this Asra folds the napkin, the lamplight makes his hair look like moonlight now that darkness has settled on Vesuvia. The streets are quieter, all shops are long closed and people I see out and about now are definitely those going to get drunk or are already drunk, it’s the limbo time of night where the two parties can cross. Asra’s thoughtful voice draws my attention back to him, “Perhaps it should just be you two. If I’m there, he may think that I put you up to it. And… it’s easier to open up if it’s just one person.” He says this last part with a particular glance in my direction, though I want to pretend I’m unsure why. 

We talk a little while longer, idly chatting and catching up until we decide that now is the time to head home, so we do. We have to part ways far earlier than we usually would, now that Asra lives further in the city, so our goodbye happens on a stairwell rather than on a street. I wish him a goodnight and head into south end, and now that I’m alone on the dark streets I wish I had my cloak with me. It would make me unbearably hot, but I feel safer when more of my skin is covered. 

I try to avoid my nervousness when I arrive to my door, hoping against hope that Ksasthra is either asleep or still at the theatre, automatically I start shuffling for excuses of what I had been up to all day that wasn’t helping Asra move in, but I find when I open the door that there is no Ksasthra in sight. I let out a soft breath in relief and head into my room, stripping into pajamas before getting into bed. I haven’t had the luxury of secondary sleeping clothes in so long that I revel in the nightly ritual, even now after having had it for over a year. There’s just something about having assigned clothes, these are for sleeping and these are for daytime, that makes me feel as if I’m _high society._

It’s the little things that really make life comfortable and enjoyable, from people to venison to pajamas. Though… I think I may just be in such a good mood because of _one_ particular person being back. 

I fall asleep with idle thoughts about the places Asra has been, and if he would let me come with him next time. 

… 

I don’t get a chance to see Muriel until after the Masquerade is over. With the stress of the show - more than one showing this year because of the turnout in the year prior - the stress of the players, the amount of work I had to do with the other dancers, and Ksasthra’s constant pushing, it was a miracle that I even got a decent amount of sleep at night. In a spare minute I was able to go up to Asra’s shop to see him but it was only a taste, just enough to leave me wanting to stay when I had to leave. On the bright side what I learned from that was when Asra wasn’t in the shop, he was at Muriel’s or out getting supplies, which meant that his shop being his home made a much more reliable method of finding him than it was before in the chaos of market street. 

But now that the show is over, Ksasthra has given me two days off to rest and recuperate with the bit of extra pension in my coin purse for my work with the show, and under the pretense of hanging out with Adelisa I slipped away into the forest to see Muriel. The trees are vibrantly emerald in the afternoon sunlight, soft birdsong drifts through the air as if on a half-whispered wind, gliding between boughs and through my light clothes as I let my hair down in order to rebraid it again. It’s gotten a little longer, it hangs down past my middle back now and I have to say I’m kind of a fan. I had short hair for most of my childhood and only started growing it out after I lived with Master Garmel… mostly out of circumstance… and it’s grown to be something I’m glad I have. It’s fun to play with, and having that extra weight on my back when it’s down has become a real comfort for me. A rustle of wings pulls my attention over my head where I see a crow hopping from branch to branch, surprisingly not cawing but silently gliding through the trees, moving from tree to tree to my left and away until it’s out of sight. 

I come to Muriel’s hut in no time, the summertime warmth permeating through my bones almost as a reminder that the last time I was here a blanket of snow was on the ground and the trees were gray, tall, and lonely. I approach the door and do as Asra helped me practice, unlocking the cross me knot with a flick of my magic in my palm across the door and the ward opens. I announce my presence with a knock and a call, “Hey Muriel, it’s me, Jamie! I’m coming inside if that’s okay!” 

No response, not like he would even if he’s within. I learned the hard way the first time I visited alone that he doesn’t answer the door if you knock and stay outside, I was hovering around his hut for a good part of an hour before he came out for something and found me sitting there. It was awkward, but I always feel a little awkward around Muriel, so it’s slowly become something I’m used to. 

I open the door and head inside to find the fire burning hot, casting long shadows in the small one-room home but I do not find a Muriel within. I raise an eyebrow and turn about slowly for a hint to where he might have gone and spot the shadowed mark on the floor where the sack of chicken feed usually sits, but now it’s nowhere in sight. _So he’s either out of chicken feed… or he has it with him._

_Time to go see the chickens._

I leave the hut after replacing the cross-me-not and shift through the trees on the left hand side and around the birch that grows overtop of the hut, towards where the wild chickens live. Muriel took me to see them once to check on them during the winter, and although I have to double back a few times I manage to find it when I see his large shoulders, cloaked in a dark gray blanket, through the trees. He stands a good head and shoulders taller than me and is rather broad shouldered, this man looks like an ancient oak tree that grew legs and walked away from its roots, thick arms, thick legs, hands so big that one could hold onto my head easily. He’s holding the sack of chicken feed in his arm like a swaddled baby, sprinkling food in the sweet green grass, and around him are several chickens of various feathered plumage, clucking happily as they bob in the grass in search for the nutrition. 

He spots me as I approach and pauses in his movements, so I make myself known. “Hello, Muriel!” I greet with a wave of my hand, fingering my satchel as I make my way over to him, “How are the chickens?” 

Slowly he resumes his task as I move to stand beside him, I have to be mindful of where I put my feet so that no chicken beaks have the opportunity to rip a hole in my boots. They’re incredibly old, worn all around the soles and with all the stitching frayed, they probably won’t make it to this winter… though I’ve had them since I was with Master Garmel, so truly it’s a feat that they _have_ survived this long. But a chicken beak might just be the thing that breaks it, so I move to stand where I’m sure Muriel has not scattered feed. He answers me with a low grumble, “... They’re fine.” 

I nod with a hum of acknowledgement, crossing my arms as I watch the chickens moving around Muriel. I know what my task is here, but now that I’m actually standing next to this absolute mountain I’m not quite sure how to go about getting him to open up to me. How exactly does one ask _hey Muriel, why do you hate people so much?_

I suppose I should start someplace familiar. “I went to Asra’s new shop recently.” I begin, looking up at Muriel’s profile as I speak, “I saw all that beautiful furniture you made. It was truly well made, I was impressed… it must’ve taken a lot of time and effort.” 

Muriel’s face erupts in a deep garnet on his hickory-bark skin, his hands stall as they scatter some more seed and when I look back to his face I can see his eyes are looking away from me, into the forest like I’m too embarrassing to even look at. “... It wasn’t too long. I mean, it didn’t take too long.” He huffs a little as I try to hide my amusement for his sake, glancing over at me as the chickens congregate around his massive feet, “Why are you here?” 

I raise an eyebrow at him in curiosity, “You haven’t asked me that since the first time I came over. Why are you asking now?” 

Muriel meets my gaze with a certain glower that used to scare the everliving shit out of me, but now I’m able to withstand it easily after getting to know him better. “Because Asra’s back. You never come here without Asra when he’s here.” 

_That’s a fair point._ “Well, I’d like to think that we are close enough by now that I can have a relationship with you without him, can’t I?” Muriel flounders a little at this, his hands crunch the top of the chicken feed bag as he mutters under his breath something I can’t quite hear. Usually I’d let it slide, but not today. “What?” I challenge, raising an eyebrow at Muriel curiously, “I enjoy spending time with you, Muriel. I may have met you through Asra, but that doesn’t mean that I can only be friends with you when he’s not around.” 

This does nothing but makes Muriel even redder as he closes the feed bag. He starts to walk off, back towards his hut, so I quickly take up stride next to him, though I have to walk a little faster than I usually do because his legs are so _long._ He glances over at me with a note of disgruntled surprise before he grumbles, “Why?” 

I peer up at his features, tilting my head slightly, “What do you mean, why?” 

The deep green hues of his eyes like basil and sage are muddled like shadow on grass as he looks down at the ground with closed off shoulders tucked inward; his voice is deep and gruff, how I’d imagine a jaded treant would speak, “Why do you care?” 

Something about his words strike me deep, so deeply I feel a barbed chord pulling through my heart and out through my ribcage. “Because I care about _you.”_ Muriel lets out a soft huff under his breath, I think it’s incredulousness so immediately I retort with a gentle tone, “Do you think I’m lying?” 

“... Maybe.” He mutters softly. When we arrive back to his hut he undoes the cross-me-not with a simple touch before he ducks inside before I can respond, so I follow after swiftly, before the door closes on me. Inside the fire is still going just as strong as before, even though I thought that a fire in a small hut like this would make things unbearably hot the heat seems to fade into the clay and outside rather than building up within, which is a relative relief. 

Muriel sets the bag of chicken feed down in its usual place by the door before he heads over to sit on his bed, picking up one of his recent woodworking projects, though it’s too early to tell what it’s going to be right now. I don’t let the subject drop, I grab the stool by the table in the corner and I move to sit just to his right as I persist, “What benefit would I get from lying to you?” 

Muriel frowns, his shoulders tensing up a little more than they already were. He stares intently at his project and for a moment I don’t think he’s going to answer me until he speaks with a deep and deadly voice, “I can think of a few things.” 

I take the bait in hopes of calling on his bluff. “Like what?” 

Muriel glances at me with furrowed eyebrows with such stark familiarity that suddenly I’m no longer in his hut. Suddenly I’m behind a set of iron bars looking out at the hungry eyes staring in, and before I can gasp what’s happening Muriel turns his gaze away from mine and the memory fades. He doesn’t answer. 

It’s in that moment that I realize I understand where he’s coming from. I feel in him a mirror in myself that I didn’t understand until that moment, that look, that I knew as well as my own reflection because in a way, it _was_ my reflection. “Muriel,” I murmur softly, speaking as delicately as I can, “I never want to hurt or use you.” 

At this Muriel stops his woodwork to look at me, his eyes suddenly flying wide and his hands suddenly stalling. I continue tenderly, holding my hands out but not as if to touch him, but at a respectful distance, “I know that people are capable of horrible things, will _do_ horrible things for reasons we can’t comprehend, but that doesn’t mean that everyone you meet will do that to you.” 

Muriel’s eyes are wide and a deep juniper in the shadows of the firelight, but after a moment the surprised look fades and the jaded hinges return as he turns back to his hands, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. People who live in the city are capable of fathomless cruelty.” 

I set my jaw and steady my breathing. “I may not have been around here long, but human nature is pretty consistent regardless of where you’re from. I’ve travelled enough to know that.” 

Muriel gives me a look out of the corner of his eye of slight disbelief. I have to swallow as my nerves begin to tingle with anxiety. _Fine. Maybe this will make you believe me._ “You may not know this, but I was born and raised in the deep north, far beyond the mountain range. In the Kingdom of Thavuntis.” Muriel glances over at me again, the only indicator that he’s listening to me, as I continue with a cautious breath, “People there aren’t like people here in how they regard magic. There, no one has magic, they think it’s strange and unnatural, so if you did have magic…” 

I trail off, suddenly finding it difficult for my tongue to work. Thousands of words pass through my head, _they beat you, they curse you, they mock you, they fear you,_ it takes a few seconds for my tongue to catch up to my head, “... I may not know the specifics of your past that lead you to feel this way, but I do know what it’s like for people to look at you and hate you because they don’t understand you, because they’re scared of you. Because they look at you and see a… a monster.” My gaze is faraway, even though I’m literally looking at Muriel’s still hands I truly see a dark forest of thick pine trees, I can taste the mint of the cold air on my tongue even though fire licks the wood just mere feet away. I snap back to the present when I see movement and I watch as Muriel slowly sets his project and tools down and turn towards me with a fresh look on his face; his eyes are wide and glistening with an expression that I’ve never ever seen on his face before now and I realize that it’s because it’s understanding. He’s seeing me as if for the first time and comprehending what he sees and on one hand that’s a terrifying feeling, on the other, it’s incredibly… validating. Gratifying. _I’m seen._

 _But there’s a point I’m trying to make here. I need to make it while I have him._ I try to shake off the cold frost of the past that’s threatening to take away my concentration, instead delving deep into the dusky hues in Muriel’s affixed gaze to maintain my focus. “I’m not telling you this to throw myself a pity party. I’m telling you to show you that I trust you with that knowledge about me, and that I’m not just blowing smoke in your face about all this. It took me a _long time_ to be able to trust people. Years of individuals showing me basic kindness.” I bite my lip as I flurry for examples, “It took Ksasthra taking a chance on me, taking me in and not using that against me to learn that I’m worthy of existing. It took Asra’s kindness and understanding for me to remember that there’s more to people than simply the darkness they can bring, that there’s also an unimaginably beautiful light that can shine out and touch those around them.” I hold up my hands and balance them as if on a scale, “You see… I think that we’re all a bit of light and dark, you see. That’s what makes us human is the balance of the two. Some have more of one than the other, but we exist with both, we are capable of both depending on our choices. So maybe it is a gamble to trust in someone and let them in… but when that gamble pays off?” I smile a bit and gesture to the door idly with my head while I rub my arms, “You get people like Asra in your life. And I’m willing to bet there are more out there, as well, waiting.”

Muriel’s expression grew quiet as I spoke, a little unsure and wary, but attentive. When I finish, he curls his lips slightly with malcontent as he looks off to the side, with a quiet tone he grumbles, “... Sounds fake.” 

I give Muriel a long and tired look as I rest my head in my hands, looking at him with slight incredulousness. He seems to be avoiding my gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in his chisel like it’s got something on the blunt edge. “Well, believe me or don’t, that’s your decision.” I relent after a time, making a vague gesture as I move to rise with vague exasperation, “I’m sorry for bothering you.” 

I move towards the door, already simmering as frustration and helplessness begins to broil when it all suddenly breaks like a glass vase when I hear Muriel’s voice sharpen, “Wait!” I blink and glance back at him in surprise. He’s still sitting on the bed, his hands nervously playing with his project as he looks at the fire with a deep crimson visage under his eyes. “You er… you don’t… you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.” 

And just like that, my entire mood turns in the opposite direction and soars upwards. A small smile creeps up my face as I rest my hands on my hips, “Oh? Are _you_ asking _me_ to stay?” 

I didn’t think it was possible but somehow Muriel’s blush seems to darken as his full lips purse unhappily. I decide to go easy on him, laughing and waving him off as I move to sit back down on the stool, “Don’t hurt yourself, don’t hurt yourself. Of course I wanna stay… So, whatcha making?” 

I spend most of the day at Muriel’s, talking to him about his woodworking. He let me try to do a chisel mark but apparently I did a bad job because he didn’t let me do it again afterward, grumbling unhappily even after I extensively apologized. I wanted to try to use my magic to grow the wood back but he said he didn’t trust me to not mess up a second time and frankly, he had a point, so I let it go with a promise to make it up to him by going to get some extra wood for the fire. By the time it starts to turn into evening I tell him goodbye before I head back into the city to get myself some dinner before heading to Asra’s to tell him what happened. When I get there, he’s closing up shop; he opened for the first time on the second or third day of the Masquerade and now the bottom floor looks starkly different since he’s unpacked it. Herbs and charms line the back shelves, trinkets and other arcane objects are on display on the countertop and throughout the shop on various surfaces. Behind the counter is Asra, looking like he is exactly where he should be; among charms and herbs that have soaked the space with his magic. When I walk in a little bell on the doorway jingles and alerts him to my presence, he’s rearranging some of the charms with his back to me and without turning around he calls, “Sorry, we’re closed!” 

I let out a faux, disappointed sigh as I approach the counter, “Aww, really? I was hoping to slip in for a last minute reading? I heard there’s an incredibly talented magician here who can help me out.” 

Asra turns around at the sound of my voice and immediately beams, facing me fully with his hands braced on the counter. He chuckles softly as I give him a lecherous raise of my eyebrow, his eyes grow more hooded and his lips play upwards with a playful light dancing in his lavender eyes, “Not as talented as another magician, though I do try.” I try to hide my smile and the beginnings of my bubblegum blush and mostly fail as he shifts to rest his forearms on the counter while regarding me more seriously, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Do I need an excuse?” I ask with a teasing tilt of my head. 

Asra’s eyes half close with a sly raise of his starlit brows, “You know my door is always open for you.” I feel heat spread across my face and through my bones as he continues like he didn’t just gut punch me with warm and fuzzy feelings, “But you usually don’t stop by this late in the evening.” 

I nod and shrug slightly as I shift to sit up on the counter, careful that I don’t disturb any of the charms here as I start to speak with my hands, “I just wanted to come by and tell you that I went and saw Muriel today.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow in confusion for a second before memory dawns in his mauve hues. “Oh. How was that?” 

I watch in that moment as a familiar, lavender snake makes her way from within his scarf, around his arm, then onto the counter to make her way over to me. I smile at Faust and extend my arm to allow her to wrap around my forearm and wrist to squeeze, gently scratching her under her chin as she does so; she seems to like it when I do that. “It went well. I think I may have gotten through to him a little bit, but we’ll have to see in the coming days. I just wanted you to know so you could watch for changes… you know him better than I.” 

Asra is silent for a long while while I pay attention to Faust, I realize a few seconds of silence later it’s because he was rounding the counter to come on my side. He’s staring at me with this strange expression that I can’t describe, almost starstruck but I can’t imagine what would cause him such wonder as he moves to stand in front of me, his waist but a few inches from my knees where I sit on the counter. He reaches out his hands towards me and on instinct I hold out Faust to him, assuming he wants his familiar back. He blinks out of the strange, marveling look to peer at Faust then at me, and she lifts her head to look back at me with a similarly confused look before she slowly returns to Asra’s shoulders, draping herself there comfortably. Once she’s situated Asra takes my hands in his and brings them to his lips, they brush against my knuckles softly before he drops them a little so he can look at me through his snowfallen eyelashes, “You truly went above and beyond for my friend, Jamie.” 

For some reason something about this position makes my cheeks flare up like bunches of cherries, I swallow on my surprisingly dry mouth as I shyly respond, “I-it’s no problem, really. You’d do the same for me.” 

“Still. You didn’t have to help, but you did. You _wanted_ to help.” Asra’s eyes like amethysts in the low lamplight of the shop flicker to the side as a deep sangria begins to burn in his face, “I’m really grateful for what you did, and I’m not sure how to repay you.” 

I quickly shake my head, pulling my hand from his to pat his shoulder, “I don’t want payment, Asra. Nor do I need it. It was the right thing to do, and I’m glad I did it.” Asra’s eyes are stuck on mine, wide and flickering slightly downwards on my face in a weird manner, so I keep talking, “Besides, Muriel seems like he could use some extra friends, don’t you think? Even though…” I look off to the side and idly run a hand along the edges of my braid over my shoulder, “Not to say that you aren’t enough. It’s quite the contrary, actually… Muriel’s really lucky to have a friend like you, and I told him as such… I guess I’m just happy to help is all.”

There’s a moment of quiet. Palpable and intimate. I look back into his eyes and see that same look, wonderstruck into silence, and I wonder if I said the wrong thing, or if he’s tired after working all day. _Yes, yes, he must be exhausted. I guess I should’ve waited for this until tomorrow but I couldn’t stay away… I should go so he can rest._

I extricate myself from the counter and Asra abruptly takes a large step back, suddenly his cheeks look like ruby slippers in the light. Internally I wonder what has him looking so embarrassed for but externally I ensure there’s no change in my expression as I speak, “I should really get going, you must be tired after the long day you’ve had.” Asra opens his mouth and I think it’s to argue so I continue without a pause, “-And I need to get home to Ksasthra, he doesn’t like it when I’m out after dark.” 

Asra’s demeanor seems to right itself at this, and his gaze takes on a new, wide-eyed look as he peers at me, suddenly with a worried tenor his expression furrows slightly, “Is he getting suspicious?” 

I shake my head confidently, “No, no, I have a story. Ksasthra thinks I’m out with Adelisa, a good friend of ours. She’s been agreeing to cover for me whenever I’m with you or Muriel for a while now.”

Asra seems to settle a bit at this, though there’s a persistent spark of worry that lingers in his gaze as he regards me. “I wish there was a way that you didn’t have to do that.” He murmurs softly, glancing back at me, “I know that you care about Ksasthra, but have you thought about finding your own place? So that you don’t have to… answer to him?” He pauses as he says this, as if carefully selecting his words. 

I quickly shake my head, “No, he’d take it personally and ask why his place isn’t good enough for me. He’s done me a lot of favors, I don’t want to make him think I take them for granted.” Asra’s gaze clouds with a violet shroud, but he doesn’t say anything further as I make my way towards the door. “I’ll be sure to drop by for lunch tomorrow! Now that the show’s over we can go back to spending time together as normal.” 

He hesitates for a moment as I pause at the door before he quickly nods, “... Alright. I’ll see you then.” 

I wave and smile at him brightly before I leave the shop, shutting the door behind me and then heading home. 

Like usual I get a little bit of a worried knot in my stomach as I approach my home, but it settles as I talk myself through it. _You were with Adelisa. It’s alright, you were with Adelisa. In the… At the… In the Shopping District! Yeah, yeah that works, and we got food at The Lighthouse…_ When I open the door I find all my anxiety is for nothing, as I see no sight of Ksasthra here. I let out a soft breath and release the tension in my shoulders, closing and locking the door behind me before I enter my room. 

And freeze. 

Ksasthra’s sitting on my bed with crossed ankles, staring directly at me. “Jamie.” He greets with a certain level of coldness that has a shiver going up my spine. 

_Relax. You did nothing wrong._ I smile brightly at Ksasthra and force myself to sound completely calm, “Oh, good evening! How’re… uh… how’re you?”

He doesn’t move from where he sits on my bed, even as I set my bag down on the windowsill. “Where have you been?” 

_It’s alright, Jamie. We planned for this._ “I told you this morning I was going with Adelisa to the Shopping District.” I respond simply. Best keep it simple.

“It’s late. The stalls closed hours ago.” Ksasthra’s voice is completely even, almost monotonous. 

I swallow. “Well… then we went to a uh… to get some drinks after.”

“Where?” 

_Fuck. What’s a bar in the Shopping District?_ “The Salty Salmon.” _Nice, quick thinking._

I turn towards Ksasthra and start when I see he’s standing up now, his arms behind his back as he surveys the small room with a look of disinterest. He starts to walk around it, his gaze passing over my things as if for a military inspection as he starts to speak in a low tone, “I had a bit of a long day at work, as you know, getting things ready for the next performances, and afterwards I thought I’d take a bit of a stroll. Just to see what was going on in town…” His eyes like charcoal and ash settle on me uncomfortably as he continues in that same terrifying voice, “How strange it was for me, then, to run into the one and only Adelisa drunkenly stumbling down the road on the way home.” 

Dread. Cold. Horror. I stare at him with wide eyes as his pinning gaze slides away but I find myself no less paralyzed as he continues with the same, smooth, storytelling voice, “I never thought that Adelisa would be the type to get debased in such a part of town… but fortunately, she was very helpful in clearing up a lot of issues. Such as when I asked where you were, she conveniently had an excuse that you were still back at the tavern, but when I went to find you she had… let’s call it a jog in her memory.” Black eyes on me. Black ice in my throat. Black licorice poisoning my tongue. 

He takes a step closer and I take a step back on instinct, my back hits the wall and suddenly his hands are on my shoulders and I barely restrain a yelp as he pushes me roughly to stay there. I stare at him with wide eyes as his voice loses the restraint it had and suddenly starts to growl and dig into my bones, “She told me that _you_ have been asking _her_ to _lie_ to me for _months._ She told me that she agreed to help _you_ because she felt sorry for _you.”_

I stare at him with wide eyes, I grab his wrists that hold my tunic at my throat and stammer, “Ksasthra, I promise I-” 

_Slam._ He shoves my back roughly against the wall and shakes my whole body to the core of my bones, leaving me rattled and my brain fogged. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your lying mouth.” My lips screw shut. My breath is gone, my lungs are aching, my back _hurts._

Ksasthra slowly leans close to my ear, his lips are cold and he smells of alcoholic cleaning fluid as he hisses, “Oh, Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…” Suddenly with the grip on my shirt he yanks me off the wall and throws me to the floor. 

I let out a sharp gasp as I hit the ground, cradling my arms. I look up at him with wide eyes as he steps forward, his silhouette is black with the lantern behind him and he casts a long shadow over me and across the floor like a stripe of ink. He tilts his head at me, and even though I can’t see his face at this angle I can feel his eyes ripping into my skin. “... You need to learn that your actions have consequences.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh roh  
> time for some fuckin,,,, angst  
> if you've read this far, awesome! thanks for the read! i'd love to know your thoughts, what was your favorite part, favorite detail, what you hope to see next or what you think will happen next, I'd love your feedback!  
> I'd also once again like to reiterate (bc I know the end is kind of a hanger that leaves implications n things) that Ksasthra is not and will not be sexually abusive towards Jamie. His behavior is meant to be seen as overtly controlling to the point of abuse on an obsessive level but not because of romantic or sexual attraction.


	6. The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been months since Jamie has stopped coming to visit Asra, and Asra’s gone well past worried into straight, unadulterated hysteria. Asra assumed that Jamie was just busy, after the Masquerade, then the snowstorms hit and passed and the snow became passable, it was coming time for his birthday on the winter solstice and there was still nothing.   
> That’s when Asra truly began to lose his shit.  
> \---  
> **Warning: physical abuse and evidence of physical abuse in the about middle/end of the chapter**

It’s been months since Jamie has stopped coming to visit Asra, and Asra’s gone well past  _ worried  _ into straight, unadulterated _ hysteria.  _

Winter has fully fallen on Vesuvia and it feels particularly frigid this year, the ice and snow prevented Asra from travelling into and out of the city as much as he would like; he ended up snowed in for a week at Muriel’s hut before he was able to get back into the city, and then another snowstorm hit and it was difficult to even leave the shop for basic food supplies, sales were tight and food vendors were in high demand. Asra assumed that Jamie was busy at the beginning, but after the snowstorms hit and passed and the snow became passable, it was coming time for his birthday on the winter solstice and there was still nothing. 

That’s when Asra truly began to lose his shit.

He put together a plan: the first step was to gather information. The best place to do that is Jamie’s home, but Jamie had asked Asra not to drop him off there so that Ksasthra wouldn’t see him nearby. He didn’t want to inadvertently cause Jamie to get in trouble, so he chose the second best option: the theater. Ksasthra is his boss and will likely be there when Jamie is, but Asra remembers the tunnels in the light systems overhead will help him see without being seen… at least by those who don’t look up, which are many. He used to smuggle into the theater with Muriel to watch the plays when they were kids, and although he has certainly not tried to do this in some time… he’s desperate. He needs to know what’s going on, at the bare minimum that Jamie is okay, and then he can think about the implications later. Whether he’s avoiding Asra because of something with Ksasthra, or with Muriel, or because of how close Asra had been to kissing him… he has been beating himself up over for every snow-ridden night when he laid curled up by the fire with Muriel or in his blankets at home, yearning for Jamie to be there beside him and lamenting how impossible it is for that to be his reality… 

But not now. Jamie’s safety first, answers second. Asra steels himself as he takes the pathway towards the theater, he can feel Faust anxiously winding herself around his neck and shoulders before slipping into his scarf, squirming slightly more than usual. “It’ll be alright, Faust, don’t worry.” He murmurs to settle her. 

He feels her anxiety like ticklish ants in the magic bond between them.  _ “Tight space!”  _

Asra nods a little as he comes to a stop at the back entrance of the theater, giving her a gentle, slight smile, “It’s been a while since we’ve tried to do this, but I think we’ll still be able to fit.” 

_ “Make it fit!”  _ Faust responds as she squirrels her way into Asra’s shirt, he moves the collar a little to accommodate the movement as he sneaks inside. 

It’s darker within, the light only coming from small lanterns dispersed around a series of props. He can hear the sounds of loud voices on the stage but back here there’s nothing and no one that Asra can see in the dim lighting. He moves to the far right hand side, past a tall coatrack of costumes and onto an abandoned, dilapidated ladder leading into the ceiling, right where it’s always been hidden just behind a heavy set piece once bought but barely used. He checks around to ensure that he is alone before he takes up the ladder and tests its durability, satisfied it will hold him he takes it up to the ceiling. There is a ledge here that leads out to a series of small tunnels leading to the lights in the house, tunnels that Asra used to be able to crawl through with ease as a child and even got Muriel into once before he hit his first growth spurt and couldn’t fit anymore. 

Now, grown up Asra thinks the tunnels look immeasurably smaller than he once thought, it will be a tight squeeze… but he thinks he can manage it. For Jamie. “Let’s do this.” He murmurs encouragingly to his familiar, who confidently cries  _ “Inside!” _ before he gets on his knees and delves within. 

It’s dusty, obviously no one has been up here in a while as everywhere Asra places his hands elicits soft clouds in its wake. These tunnels were built to house the lights and for people to traverse when performing maintenance but beyond that they are unused and generally unnoticed, hanging over the audience’s heads. He’s able to navigate through the sizeable holes in the wood where he is in the theater and as he progresses the voices he heard when he entered grow more and more clear. They seem to be running through a scene on an upcoming show, as there will be periods of lofty dialogue before someone interrupts and says something course before the same dialogue recommences. 

When Asra manages to crawl out past the curtain he comes upon the first of the lights, enchanted lines connected to large, metal lampshades directed down towards the stage glow a bright red as they shine white light onto the stage, illuminating it fully for Asra to see through the open stretch of wood from one light to the next. It’s a lot more cramped here than when Asra was here last - he had to be around ten or eleven years old, then - but he can fit just fine for now, perfectly hidden in the rafters looking down onto the stage from where he appears to be just by the front row where the audience sit. 

The first thing he sees is the two feminine presenting people standing on either side of the stage, on polar ends and in opposite colors, the one closest to him is in a blue dress with intricate foldings around the waist and the one farthest away is in the same dress, but red. In between them standing at the lip is a masculine presenting person with a crimson tunic with lines of ruby along its edges, tucking into dark brown harem pants that taper at their ankles and give way to intricate sandals. They have pale skin, like Jamie’s, and short hair the color of rose gold, cropped short to the base of their neck and dark eyes that seem to tear into the performer closest to them as Asra can finally gather the words they speak, “-don’t make me come back up here because you don’t know how to hold an A sharp, Josephine.” 

They turn away from the abashed performer, who turns a dark red like their partner’s dress and states, “Yessir, Ksasthra.” 

Asra hones in on that masculine figure walking off the stage and to the front row with a fresh, scrutinizing gaze, scanning his unfamiliar face and committing it to memory.  _ So this is Ksasthra.  _ Asra thinks to himself, his lavender eyes narrowing,  _ I’ve definitely never seen him before… yet he seems to dislike me on a personal level, or so would make sense for him to tell Jamie to stay away from me… Why? Who am I to you?  _

Ksasthra sits in the very front row, directly in line with Asra’s place overhead and the stage as he calls, “Again, from the top! And Jamie, be mindful of when I asked you to hold your positions and when to move” 

As if his attention was tied to a string and then yanked with full force Asra’s eyes plaster to the stage right as the one he seeks appears from behind the curtain. Jamie looks to be in good health, his cheeks carry color and his eyes are bright yellow like daffodils in the white lights, though there is a shadow beneath them that was not there before. He’s wearing a dark purple tunic that’s tucked into tight fitting black pants and he wears no shoes, only thick, woolen socks that reach his mid shins. As always Asra’s breath cannot help but be stolen, but it’s even more potent now than ever because it’s been so long. It’s  _ him.  _ He’s  _ okay.  _

_ Then… why has he stopped coming to see me?  _

The two feminine actors on the stage start to perform then, starting with some dialogue that leads into a serenade from one to the other, but Asra can’t focus on them because his eyes, his breath, his every sense is focused entirely on Jamie as he glides across the dance floor. Asra hasn’t had the opportunity to come see Jamie since the first performance because he didn’t want to bring about problems with Ksasthra, but he can tell that Jamie has had extensive practice in dance since that day… now over a year and a half ago.  _ Has it truly been that long since they met?  _

He moves with liquid grace, his shoulders perfectly even to the ground as his arms swirl about him in a hypnotizing manner, each step is purposeful and with perfect tandem with the performers. He twists about with one foot planted on the wooden stage and spins, raising his arms in the air and then his other leg behind him and Asra can feel his magic working from here, making him more flexible and pliable to move but it’s subtle; if Asra wasn’t so keenly aware of Jamie’s magic at all times, he likely wouldn’t have noticed, even as a semi-trained magician. 

Suddenly Ksasthra’s voice cuts through the air. “Jamie,  _ higher.”  _ His voice is exasperated, this is not the first time he’s said it. The performers only pause briefly before they continue their song and dialogue as Jamie seems to visibly tremor, lifting his back leg higher into the air. Then he turns in place on his one foot slowly and then twists about, landing gracefully on the other foot but it falters just slightly, Asra’s breath catches when he sees Jamie’s eyes slightly widen and his legs visibly shake. 

This is around the beginning of when Asra thought Jamie’s work shift was, but it’s clearly evident that he’s been here for a while, hours if not more.  _ This doesn’t feel right.  _

“Stop, stop!” Ksasthra barks, halting the performers and causing Jamie to freeze where he is, poised in an upright form with his arms over his head. He climbs up the stage, his footsteps the only sound in the theater before he comes up next to Jamie and physically turns him about with his hands on his shoulders. Something about the motion makes Asra’s muscles tense; it’s not that he’s jealous, he’s never been the jealous type, but something about Ksasthra touching Jamie just… doesn’t sit right with him. Like that feeling of dread when someone is standing far too close to an open flame, leaving him wired in waiting for that fire to catch. Jamie is pliable and moves as he’s asked, Ksasthra speaks in an undertone that Asra can’t quite hear but he can tell the annoyance in his voice without his ears straining. Then, when he’s done showing Jamie what he ought to do, Ksasthra pulls away and sits back in the front row, throwing out a hand towards the performers, “Again!” 

Asra sits back a little, his head cramped over the opening but fortunately he’s still able to sit within the light tunnel without problems. He isn’t sure exactly what it is that’s keeping Jamie away from seeing him, but it’s not because he’s sick or missing, so at least in that regard Asra is relieved. But now, he’s left with the unsettling question that’s been sitting at the back of his mind since this journey began; if Jamie isn’t coming to see him because he can’t… why isn’t he? Does he not want to be around him anymore? Was it something to do with the talk with Muriel? He hasn’t changed his behavior drastically, although he has been more willing to come to see Asra in his shop, which is something he was absolutely ecstatic about… it seemed like he’d gotten through to him. So… Is it Asra? Has he… has he been too obvious in his advances? He could tell that Jamie at least was confused, but he thought it was because he didn’t know that Asra was trying to get closer to him, could it be possible he figured it out and… 

Before Asra can puzzle further, a sudden, sharp cry of pain echoes in the house, immediately followed by a loud  _ thump  _ on the stage. Asra’s gaze snaps back down and involuntarily a gasp escapes as he leans over the opening to gaze below. 

Jamie is lying on his side, hugging his knee to his chest as the other two performers stop their song and rush over to him, murmurs of  _ are you okay  _ in a quiet mantra replacing their song in the air. Ksasthra is the next to rise, he swoops in like a vulture and waves off the performers before he kneels at Jamie’s side, pushing his hands away so he can look at his leg, just out of Asra’s line of sight. 

If it weren’t for the amount of finagling Asra would have to perform to turn around, he wouldn’t have the self control to resist getting down there to him, Ksasthra be damned. But he knows if he does, he’s in danger of threatening Jamie’s job  _ and  _ place of living, and that’s the only thing stopping him from going down to him. Asra can’t see Jamie’s face because his back is to him, but he can tell by the shake in his shoulders that he’s in pain, and probably exhausted to boot.  _ Oh Jamie…  _

Ksasthra straightens as a feminine presenting figure with deep, dark skin and even darker hair appears from deeper in the house. He snaps at them as he keeps a hand on Jamie’s shoulder with a rough and tight voice, “Tell the actors to take a break. I’ll be back after I get him to a doctor.” The feminine figure nods at him enthusiastically before they whirl towards the house and start shouting things, but Asra isn’t paying them any more of his attention. He watches with the gaze of a hawk as Ksasthra places his arms beneath Jamie and lifts him up, he visibly flinches as he’s raised and seems to stiffen into stone as Ksasthra carries him behind the curtain, towards the back of the theatre. 

Moving with a purpose he’s never quite had before Asra twists, with difficulty, to turn back around in the tunnel and then returns from hence he came, though his pace is agonizingly slow in comparison with how he wants to fly like the wind to be next to Jamie. He has to hurry so he can track Ksasthra without being seen. As he’s thinking about it, he closes his eyes as he crawls through the tunnel and lets his magic wash over him, whispering the appropriate incantation under his breath - a forget-me-not spell. If Ksasthra does happen to spy him, he won’t remember the encounter, though the spell only lasts for a little while it should be just fine for Asra’s purposes. 

Once he makes it to the end of the tunnel he checks his surroundings to ensure there’s still no one around before he hops down and bolts out the back door and into the thin alleyway adjacent to the theater. As he’s presented with an empty street, Asra’s thoughts start to churn, furiously thinking of where the closest doctor would be in this part of town before he remembers Juniper’s just down the road, and might be where Ksasthra will head to. So with a purpose Asra sets off, Faust worriedly winds herself around his shoulders as he takes the corner at a sharp angle. 

Just as he’s about to turn onto the street where Juniper’s shop lies, her door bursts open with an angry thud and Asra steps back just in time as Ksasthra strides out, red in the face and looking generally livid. Before he’s spotted Asra presses his back against the stone in the alley he was about to emerge from as Ksasthra grumbles under his breath, “-damn woman, where could she even be right now?” His voice fades as it goes in the other direction until it’s out of Asra’s earshot. When Asra peers around to see if the coast is clear he sees the man on the other end of the street, furiously peering into shop windows before continuing on.  _ He’s looking for Juniper. She must be out looking for ingredients or having lunch.  _

_ That should keep him occupied long enough for me to see Jamie and get some answers.  _

Asra looks around to see if he’s alone as he ducks into Juniper’s place. She’s one of the local doctors, she and Asra are what he’d consider acquaintances so he knows the layout of her office. She has a front waiting room and then a doorway leading down a hall with several rooms for patients to stay, as well as her own private quarters upstairs.  _ Ksasthra was alone and this front room is empty, so he must have placed Jamie down in one of those rooms. _ So Asra quickly walks into the back, shutting the doors behind him before he checks the first door on the far left. 

Inside is a small window overlooking the leftward alley, next to a white-washed night stand and a frail metal-framed bed… occupied bed. Sitting on top of the crisped cornered sheets Juniper’s famous for, with his legs stretched before him, is Jamie, staring at Asra with wide, honeyed eyes like the edges of a royal picture frame in the filtered evening sunlight. “Asra?” He mutters in complete disbelief. 

The magician surges forward without hesitation, closing the door behind him and dispelling the forget-me-not spell before he rushes to his side and cups his face in hands, “Jamie! Oh, it’s so good to see you, are you alright?” His hair, in a thong wrapped at the base of his neck, is streaked with sweat, and his skin is damp like he’s been lifting heavy weights beneath Asra’s hands. Faust immediately moves to lie on Jamie’s shoulders, excitedly embracing him with her body before she worriedly lifts her head for her forked tongue to touch his sodden, salty skin,  _ “Friend!!”  _

Jamie blinks at him in total confusion like he grew two heads before he glances to Faust, scratching her habitually under her chin as he starts to stammer, “I-I… What’re you doing here? You can’t- you shouldn’t be here, Ksasthra will be back any minute! How did you know I was-” 

Asra shushes him with his thumb against his lips, a touch he’s desperately craved for months and as Jamie falls quiet at the silencing gesture he tries not to get too caught up in how soft they are beneath the pad of his finger. He quickly shakes the feeling, however, so he can get the answers he needs before Ksasthra returns. “I saw what happened at the theater. I was in the light tunnels. Ksasthra went to find Juniper, I think we have the moment.” He shifts his attention then to Faust, she meets his gaze with scarlet eyes as he gestures to the door, “Faust, can you keep an eye out the front door? Let me know when Ksasthra returns with Juniper.” 

_ “Keep an eye!”  _ She says to him as she slips off of Jamie’s shoulders and instead slithers out the window, headed toward the front door. He knows that he’ll be able to hear her thoughts through their magical connection for when she sights Ksasthra, giving him time to make his escape out the window without being caught. With that taken care of, Asra regards the hurt leg, remembering it was Jamie’s right he was cradling Asra hovers his hands over it for a moment before he looks back to Jamie, “May I take a look?” 

Jamie nods after a bout of hesitation and assists him in taking off his socks and riding his pants leg up to his mid thigh, with lots of pained gasps and winces, and even with little medical training Asra can immediately see where the problem lies. His knee is swollen immensely, and in how Asra knows knees are supposed to look… his does not look like that. It looks  _ really  _ painful, and too complicated for Asra’s basic healing magic to completely fix… but he can at least ease the pain and the stress on his bones before Juniper can come and look at it. He closes his eyes and lets his magic manifest in his hands, the healing energy from the reservoirs of his power sinking into Jamie’s skin like water onto parched lips and immediately he feels Jamie sigh beneath him. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye and he sees his golden hues locked on his, dulled with painful exhaustion that’s finally easing. Together with the clammy sweat on his cheeks, Asra can’t help but feel his heart ache for the other. “Jamie, sweetheart-” Asra chokes off the term of endearment but it slips out against his will, embarrassed he continues quickly like it didn’t happen, “… you look exhausted.”

Jamie’s bottom lip wobbles, and for a moment Asra wonders if he’s about to burst into tears for the first time since he’s met him - he wouldn’t blame him for it, Jamie may be rather emotionally reserved but this is a painful injury - but instead he lets out a short, hard breath as he rests his hand overtop of Asra’s arm. Immediately Asra gasps when he feels Jamie’s magic launching forth eagerly into him, empowering him and his healing spell but there’s not nearly as much magic in Jamie as Asra remembers there being… he must have expended beyond just physically. 

Once Jamie has pooled his magic with Asra’s, he speaks with a rough, raw voice, interrupting Asra’s worried line of thought, “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you. I truly am, I wish I could, I miss you- and Muriel… every day… but…” His gaze moves to the side as a sudden stone wall is erected in his face, all emotion is wiped clean from his expression save for within his eyes, which are hard and dark like gold coins forgotten in a gutter. “... Ksasthra found out I was lying to him about where I’ve been… that I’ve really been spending all this time with you.” 

Asra’s eyes widen slightly. He tries to stay focused on his task of mitigating Jamie’s pain but this proves too much distraction, his spell abates and Jamie winces with a gasp as he’s hit with the pain again but it’s only for a moment before it fades back into the metal shield his face hides behind. Asra mutters an apology and raises his hands to start again before Jamie holds out a hand, stopping him. “No no, thank you, but it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Let’s let the healer handle it.”

Accepting this only because of time’s sake, Asra lets his hands drop to his sides. “What happened?” Asra asks softly, instead taking Jamie’s hand in his as he sits on his bedside, careful to mind his injury. 

Jamie furrows his brows and looks down at his leg with distaste, “Well, honestly I think I just landed on it wrong.” 

Despite the worry that settles like a wet blanket over Asra’s heart, he can’t help but crack a smile at that. “No, I saw that.” He rests his hand gently over Jamie’s thigh, out of reach from the injury so as not to disturb it but close enough to it, and him, that he can touch nonchalantly. “I mean… what happened when Ksasthra found out?”  _ What’s stopped you from coming to see me? _

Jamie does it again, that slamming of walls up in his face, like the very mention of that man’s name is the summoning word to a concealing spell. His gaze looks away, towards the window and away from Asra, and the apple in his throat bobs as he speaks with a low murmur, like he’s scared of being overheard, “He’s been taking like…  _ religious _ tabs of my comings and goings. If he’s free, he comes with me, if he’s not, he makes me come with him to where he needs to go before we get to do what I want to do. He…” Jamie’s face cracks ever so slightly, his lips part and tremble for a moment before he seems to stop all expression together. It takes him several seconds to state in a voice that’s like monotonous iron, “He found out because he saw the person who I was covering you with, Adelisa… I had said I was with her at that time, but she was alone… and drunk. He cornered her and made her tell him everything, a-and he  _ fired  _ her for it. On the spot.” Jamie finally begins to frown and his jaw begins to set as his shoulders draw closer together, “That job was her  _ life!  _ She was the best stage manager the theater has ever had, she’d been working there for fifteen years.  _ Fifteen years.  _ That’s almost longer than I’ve been alive… And he fired her, just like that. B…” Jamie’s eyes glisten, only for a second before he seems to regain his self control and his voice returns to that same dark, lifeless tone, “... Because of me.” 

Asra’s chest aches. Absolutely  _ aches  _ and he’s unsure what he can do about it. He reaches out to Jamie and tenderly cups his face in his hands, drawing the dawn of his eyes back to Asra’s. He smoothes some black strands of stray hair from out of Jamie’s face and behind his ear as he speaks gently with a soft voice, “Jamie, that is absolutely not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for the actions of others, there was no way you could have known.” 

Jamie’s hands reach up and touch Asra’s wrists, not in a preventative motion but more like he’s feeling Asra’s hands on him, which is sending bolts of energy through his bloodstream from Jamie’s magic and his presence as they trail to cover Asra’s hands. A soft huff escapes Asra’s parted lips, “That is not right. Your employer, your housemate… he shouldn’t have a say in what you do outside of work, of home. You’re allowed to exist beyond those spheres… Ksasthra should not have done that. To you nor to your friend.”  _ He shouldn’t be allowed to  _ is what Asra truly wants to say, but he’s not exactly familiar with the law in Vesuvia. He’s unsure whether he is allowed to do that or not… but it absolutely does not sit right with Asra. Something about this whole situation just leaves him with a dark and dangerous pit in his stomach. 

Suddenly he felt Faust’s thoughts like a ringing bell in his own,  _ “Coming!”  _

Asra quickly straightens upright, reluctantly letting his hands drop as he murmurs, “Ksasthra’s back, I have to go.” 

As he starts for the window, his escape route, Jamie gasps, “Wait!” 

Asra turns around with one leg out of the window as Jamie speaks rapidly from where he sits in the hospital bed, “I’ve been trying to get to you for a while now, I think I should be able to after this is healed up. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll find you.” He gestures towards his leg, and as voices start to be heard in the waiting room he continues quickly, “Go! I promise I’ll come and find you as soon as I can!”

Asra gives him an encouraging smile before he reluctantly hops out of the window and into the alley next to the shop, right as he hears the sound of the door swinging open. He walks around quickly towards the front of the shop and finds Faust dangling on the roof, looking at him upside down from by the closed doorway. “Great work, Faust.” He murmurs as he raises a hand to help her down back onto his shoulders. 

Her forked tongue kisses his ear as she returns to wind around his body, her thoughts sliding over his,  _ “Help a friend!”  _

“Yes, I’m glad we were able to help Jamie, if only a little. He’ll be in good hands with Juniper.” Asra responds softly, looking back towards the alley. Though he’s tempted to sneak back towards the window to see if he can’t eavesdrop, he doesn’t want to risk being spotted by Ksasthra. It’ll be painful, but… he’s just going to have to trust that Jamie will come and find him, like he promised. 

He lets out a soft breath and glances back at Juniper’s shop only once more before he slips away into the city, his thoughts clouded and his soul troubled by what he had learned. 

… 

Asra doesn’t see Jamie again until winter had finally given way to the beginnings of spring. Warmth had returned to Vesuvia, and Asra was grateful that jackets and overcoats were no longer necessary to go outside. As was Faust, as she was able to travel more freely rather than confined to Asra’s clothes in order to stay warm. 

In that time, Asra’s pretty sure that Muriel had gotten sick and tired of hearing him talk his ear off about Jamie, more so than he usually does. He told him everything about that day at the theater then the hospital at least twice, every detail, everything he noticed, how he felt, he thinks Jamie felt… 

Fortunately, Muriel hadn’t gotten so sick that he had stopped listening. He agreed with Asra that what was going on in regards to Ksasthra’s obscene attachment to Jamie’s activities was beyond strange, going into the borderline sinister, but neither of them knew what to do, at least without there being potential repercussions falling on Jamie. Muriel offered to go by his house to check on him and Asra couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. He guesses that the talk he had with Muriel must have been effective in that Muriel now has an additional friend to his very minimal list, and that’s more valuable than anything in Asra’s opinion. 

Asra had even gone so far as to see Juniper and asked about Jamie; she had once taught him about the different purposes of herbs before he had managed to get a hold on a book about it, so it wouldn’t be weird for him to drop in and ask. Unfortunately, all she’d told him was that Jamie had a dislocated knee, and that it would take some time for it to heal after she had put it back into place… Asra had to be patient. 

It’s been hard. By all that is good, Asra’s mood had taken a permanent turn for the foul even as the warmer winds carried in, and at first he thought it was because he wanted to take a trip out of the city - it is not unusual for this to be how his wanderlust behaves - but eventually he came to realize that it was that, but also in junction with how badly he’s been worrying himself to death over what must be going on with Jamie. His leg had to have healed by now, where is he? Is he safe? Is he happy? Is Ksasthra taking care of him? Is he lonely? Does he miss Asra? Does he miss Asra like Asra misses him? Daily, constantly, nightly, in his thoughts, in his dreams… 

He was just minding the shop after a lunch break, thinking these bleak thoughts and wanting to brek free, when he heard the bell hanging on his front door ring. As he slowly twists around to see  _ who is it now,  _ his entire mood and demeanor shifts when he sees the tired eyes and exhausted smile of the boy who has occupied his thoughts for nights on end. “Jamie!”

The other smiles as he approaches Asra with long strides before he pulls him into a hug, tucking his chin over Asra’s shoulder as he murmurs with audible relief, “It’s good to see you.” 

Jamie’s arms around Asra feels like the epitome of a safe haven. Asra wraps his arms around him and he cannot believe how he’s lived without his touch for this long, his hands on Jamie’s waist to hold him close are burning like his skin is too cold in the face of Jamie’s warmth. He realizes after a moment it’s their magic, intermingling and popping like embers in a firepit, both arisen in greeting as well. As Jamie pulls away a sharp ache rushes to replace the heat, like sugar on his tongue Asra craves for more but he’s long learned to suppress the feeling. Instead, Asra allows his age old worry to replace it. “Is it alright for you to be here?” He asks with a twinge of uncertainty, analyzing Jamie’s features. 

Jamie’s expression falls, and Asra almost regrets asking because of it, the gold in his eyes tarnishing with the rust of unease. “He’s been allowing me to go out on my own again… It’s just too troublesome for him to have the job at the theater and keep an eye on me, I think. But I didn’t want to come see you until I was certain I wasn’t being followed.” He suddenly smiles a little at Asra as he then turns to look around the shop, his teeth shine in the lower light as he chuckles, “You’ve added some decorations.” 

Asra smiles and nods, pointing out the danging charms and trinkets from the ceiling, “Muriel put a few protective charms up here once while I was out, so I thought I’d add a few more shiny things so they all kind of… blend.” 

Jamie crinkles his nose in the cutest fashion as he nods in agreement, “It suits the place.” 

Asra can’t stop smiling, but it’s not like he wants to. “I’m glad you think so.” 

Jamie and Asra spend the afternoon catching up, Asra turns the sign on the shop to say it’s closed so they can sit together upstairs without Asra worrying about tending to customers because frankly, Jamie is his top priority at the moment. He brews them some tea as they talk idly, and Asra hasn’t felt this carefree in what feels like ages. He had not realized how much he missed Jamie when he was gone, and he certainly had not realized the toll it had taken when he was uncertain when he would return. 

“I went and saw Juniper a couple days after I visited you, she’d told me that your knee was dislocated. But you seemed to calm when I saw you…” Asra comments as he reclines in his seat next to Jamie, resting his chin in his hand while the other held his cup of tea, his gaze falls to the side as that ache of guilt panged through his chest like a gong, “It must have been painful…” 

Jamie merely shrugs, cupping his tea with both hands, “It was, but I’ve got a high pain tolerance thanks to-” He pauses abruptly, his words seeming to seize in his mouth until his gaze meets Asra’s once more and he seems to settle, “... When I change my shape, it feels just like that a little. So I’m used to it.” 

Asra’s attention perks up a bit at this. Jamie has never offered information about how his magic operates, particularly not the kind that Asra - nor the Magician, as Asra has had the time to commune with his ancient mentor to ask about it - have seen before. “It feels like dislocating a bone?” He pursues, seeking to push his luck a little further. 

Jamie nods sheepishly, shifting a little in his seat to a more comfortable position, “Or breaking it. It depends on what I’m changing and to what extent. To become another animal’s form entirely it feels like getting run down by a horse, but just one body part? Pretty trivial.” He shakes his head a little as if to clear his head as he inhales the steam from his tea, “Sorry, I… It’s strange.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at him curiously, “What is?” 

Jamie holds Asra’s eyes for a moment before he speaks with a softer tone, “I’m still not quite used to being able to talk about magic so openly.” Before Asra can question him Jamie worries his bottom lip between his teeth, his brows knitting together in a pensive manner as he murmurs, “Truthfully the actual injury itself isn’t the worst thing that’s happened. What’s been horrible was the recovery. I couldn’t go to work because I couldn’t walk, nevertheless dance, so I was just… bedridden. Alone. For days without pay that I really couldn’t afford.” 

Something in Asra’s heart twinges painfully at that. _Alone. For days. I should’ve been there. I should’ve been there with you._ He goes down a different path of thought so as to hide how deeply Asra’s guilt runs. “... Ksasthra didn’t pay you even though you got hurt while working?” 

Jamie sighs and nods as he peers deeply into his cup, “I asked him about that. He said I get no pay because I’m technically an independent contractor, I get paid for ‘completed work’. And since I couldn’t complete any work…” He shrugs, like that’s nothing. 

Something dark and hateful stirs in Asra, but he manages to suppress it in favor instead of fueling his worry. “... Has he been feeding you at least?” 

Jamie glances at Asra and shrugs, again, nonchalantly, “He gets me food, yes, but he takes the cost out of my coin purse afterwards.” He inhales the tea again, but he hasn’t touched it.

Asra’s lips purse and his brows draw together as distaste and anger rise like bile on his tongue. He looks to the side as he wills the fury to pass, when it fails instead he decides do something about it. Asra rises, setting his now empty cup of tea on the table. “Have you eaten today?”

Jamie looks at Asra with wide eyes, slowly lowering his cup, still full, to the table, “... Don’t worry about it. I’ll find something-”

“No, I insist, I have some leftover sandwich materials from lunch, I’ll make you something.” Asra waves him off with a tight smile, turning his back on him as he brings out the food from within his pantry, a small cupboard next to the stove. He struggles to use the thing, that stove; it was one of those purchases he thought sounded like a good idea and thought was a good idea until he realized it was just a small, confined space to build a fire and that made it innately difficult, especially without magic. He’ll learn how eventually, he knows, but that day has not occured in the past year. 

Jamie awkwardly clears his throat behind Asra, “... Thank you. You’re really far too kind to me.” 

Asra shakes his head sternly, turning around while he prepares so he can look the other directly in the eye, “It’s what you deserve, Jamie. Especially after it sounds like you haven’t been taken care of like you needed to be.”  _ Like you should have been.  _

It’s not secret… but Asra is furious. Ksasthra is Jamie’s  _ boss.  _ He is in charge of him while he is working and apparently he thinks that that extends to when he’s not, when Jamie’s at home… he monitors his every move, he wants to have his seal of approval on everything that he does… but he didn’t take care of him when he needs help. At least, not without financial recompense. It sounds to Asra like he only wants to have Jamie under his control when it suits him, and any time it does not he’s left to his own devices.  _ If he’s going to act like Jamie’s completely overbearing father, then he should at least commit to the role, but it seems that he’s not the theater manager because of any skill in acting.  _

Jamie’s soft voice interrupts Asra’s curdling thoughts, “I’ve never needed to be cared for. And… I mean… It’s not his fault I got hurt. He shouldn’t have to take care of me just because I was careless.”

Asra finishes the construction of his sandwich and turns back around, sliding it on a small plate on the table to Jamie before he returns to his seat across from the other. “It’s not  _ your  _ fault either, Jamie. One simply does not dislocate their knee in any other way but on accident, and mistakes happen more often when you work in a more physical sense, like you do, as a dancer. If he cared about you, he would’ve made sure you had everything you needed to make a good recovery.” 

Jamie frowns a little uncertainly, looking at him and then at the sandwich between them. Asra adds with another aside, fondly touching his knee to Jamie’s beneath the table, “And think about it: as your employer, he’d want you to come back to work as soon as you could, right? That means that regardless of whose fault it is, he has more than just a passing interest in your health.” 

Jamie’s gaze pierces Asra’s for a long time, Asra looks back evenly in hope that his truth can be conveyed in his eyes. It seems like it is, as after a moment Jamie picks up the sandwich and takes a bite with a consessive noise. He blinks, peering down at the food before looking back up to Asra with a complete reversal in mood, “This is delicious! How did you know I loved cranberries?” 

Asra gladly gives him a winning smile, “When we’d eat at market stalls you would always get whatever had cranberries in it. Just made a couple deductions from there…” He glances to the side in slight embarrassment then, realizing the implications of paying such close attention to Jamie’s likes or dislikes, but Jamie doesn’t seem to notice, he merely nods with understanding and continues to eat. 

It’s for the best, as Asra isn’t willing to drop the subject of Jamie’s job at the theater just yet. “Jamie,” Asra asks softly as he regards the other, “Have you thought about getting a different job?” 

Jamie pauses midchew, the suns in his eyes flicking up to Asra as the consideration seems to literally cross the threshold of his thoughts. He’s silent for a long moment before he resumes chewing again, swallowing and then speaking, “I’ve thought about that before… I can’t. If Ksasthra knows that I’m looking for another job he’ll-” He abruptly stops, his face suddenly going a little paler before he averts his gaze to the side, speaking a little quickly to minimize the silence he’d made, “I still live with him. He’s not just my boss.” 

Asra swallows as an idea crosses his thoughts, before he can consider it he gestures over his shoulder, towards where his bed lies beyond a beaded curtain behind him, “You’re welcome to stay with me.” 

Jamie blinks, looking behind Asra and then at the space they find themselves in as if for the first time before he shakes his head, “No, I wouldn’t want to impose… besides, you only have one bed.” He gestures towards it with his chin, finishing his sandwich. 

Asra’s face starts to feel overly warm as he clears his throat, “I ah… I don’t mind sharing.” 

Jamie raises an eyebrow at Asra and crinkles his nose, grinning at him with such charm Asra is incredulous that he’d gone without that smile for as long as he did as Jamie waves him off fondly, “Oh, you.” He sits back in his chair with a lingering smile, and for a moment Asra’s about to press that he’s quite serious about his offer, but he doesn’t get a chance to before Jamie continues, “Although… you’ve got me thinking.” He touches his lips as his brows furrow, Asra can almost see his mind working when he speaks as if to himself, “Maybe what I can do is get a  _ second  _ job, and then start saving up a little bit of my pay when it comes in. Eventually, I’ll have enough to move out, and when I do I can quit my job at the theater and…” Jamie’s voice falls, his gaze sliding away and to the beaded curtain behind Asra as he murmurs with a reconsidered tone, “... and live independently.” 

Asra nods in understanding, folding his hands around his cup of tea out of habit rather than to drink. “That could work.” 

Jamie nods as well, chewing on his lip as his thoughts continue audibly, “But I’d need to find someplace else to work that’s flexible. With understandable people who won’t fire me if I can’t work a shift on short notice… And… has… skills that I can… offer…” He frowns then, his shoulders suddenly sinking as he lets out a woeful sigh, “Damnit- what place is like that? I don’t know where I’d be at all useful…” 

Another idea strikes Asra. This one is far less… implicated, so he has no qualms suggesting it. “You could work here at the shop.” 

Jamie’s head raises as he blinks at Asra owlishly, for a moment his surprise is written across every inch of his face before he sits upright fully and fixes Asra with such a pinning gaze he almost wants to squirm, “Work here…? For you?” 

“I’d say more  _ with  _ me.” Asra clarifies swiftly, shifting forward to speak with his hands as he regards Jamie seriously, “You’d just have to know how to sell the charms, what they are and how they work. I can even teach you how to do readings! It’s easy, you have magic so you should be more than able to communicate with the Arcana- It’s perfect! You’d be a perfect part-” Asra hitches, panic seizes him as he internally swears before he manages to fix his tongue, “... Perfect person to work with. Because… you’re… you’re a magician, too.” He nods quickly, as if to confirm his own point.  _ By the… Asra, you need to pull yourself together or else Jamie will think you’re coming on too strong. ‘You’d be the perfect partner?’ Please, I know you are more suave than this. _

Jamie tilts his head to the side, contemplative and quiet for a long while before he sits back a little, crossing his ankles, “That… that might just be the godsend I need.” His gaze pulls away from the wall towards Asra again, he nervously rubs the back of his neck as he mutters, “I’m sorry for asking, but how much would you be willing to pay me?” 

Asra nods in understanding, not at all offended by the question. He should have all the information he needs to make an informed decision. “Well, how much do you want to be paid?” 

Jamie blinks stupidly at him for a long time. “Is this some sort of trick question?” 

Asra swiftly shakes his head. With furrowed brows Jamie crosses his arms, his gilded gaze on the surface of the table between them as he speaks, “Well… I get paid 50 per performance, so I don’t know how you’d want to-”

Asra sits upright swiftly, “I’ll pay you 75 a week.” 

Jamie blinks. Once. Twice.  _ “Really?”  _ When Asra nods the shock seems to fade as Jamie regards Asra with worry, “Can you afford that?” 

Asra nods swiftly, gesturing idly towards the stairwell, “I’ll give you a cut the coin with you from purchases and readings… Faust will have to do without some new sweaters, but…” He gives Jamie a bemused curl of his lip as he cocks an eyebrow at him, “That’s a sacrifice I think we’d both be willing to make for you.” 

Jamie’s hands rest over his heart with wide eyes, red roses bloom in his face in such a way that Asra’s chest warms just like he drank a cup of tea as Jamie suddenly stands up, rounds the table, and throws his arms around Asra. “I can’t believe you! Thank you so much!” Before Asra can truly appreciate the hug Jamie pulls away and sets his hands firmly on his shoulders, looking at him dead in the eyes as he growls with purpose, “But only pay me what you’re able to, understand? If you at all get into financial trouble because of me, I’m gonna get upset and kick your ass!” 

Asra smiles brightly at the other and lets out a sweet, airy laugh before he nods in agreement, “We have ourselves a deal.” 

Jamie settles back to sitting at the table again, after some beats of silence he looks up at Asra and tilts his head with an pensive expression, “So… when you said you’d teach me about how to do readings… Do you mean with those fancy cards of yours?”

Asra’s lips quirk upwards with amusement as his hand slides into the pack in his pocket. “That is what I mean, yes.” He pulls them out and lays them out on the table, setting each of them face up on the table. Now’s a good a time as any for a little tarot learning. “There are 78 cards total, 56 represent the Minor Arcana and 22 represent the Major Arcana. Each card’s figure talks to me… us… through the card to give us information about the person we’re doing a reading for.” With air quotes around the phrase, Asra lets out a mischievous chuckle, “‘Tarot is the storybook of our life, the mirror to our soul, and the key to our inner wisdom.’”

Jamie blinks at Asra with wide eyes like amulets in the sunlight arcing into the quiet room, “... What does  _ that  _ mean? Whomever said that must’ve been even more eccentric than you!” 

Asra chuckles at that with a bright smile, his lavender eyes twinkling with amusement as his thoughts drift to a star-touched shore, “You could say they are, yes.” 

From there he begins to explain each of the cards’ basic meanings from their face value, at least in how Asra understands them. He makes sure that Jamie knows that Asra’s point of view is his own, and that that is reflected in the cards he made by hand; everyone has a different relationship with the different Arcana, and as Asra comes to the last of the cards he wants to see if he can’t help Jamie forge his own. “Would you like to see how it works in a reading?” He asks as he shuffles the cards back into the deck, allowing his thumbs to linger along their gilded edges as he eyes the other with a look of intrigue. 

Jamie looks back at Asra with a light of wonder glimmering in his eyes, they flicker across Asra’s hands on the cards before slowly climbing back up to lavender hues. “Okay…? What kind of reading?” 

“A simple three card reading.” Asra sets the stack of cards evenly between them, then folding his hands on the table. “Would you like to try doing a reading for yourself? Or would you like for me to give you one so you can see how it works?” 

With his chin resting in his hand, Jamie’s gaze flickers from Asra’s face to the cards before he states confidently, “I think you should do me first.” He freezes as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he gapes a little before he covers his face in his hands. Asra stifles a laugh as he watches the red burn of embarrassment bleeding across Jamie’s skin until the other declares with a much more stressed tenor,  _ “I mean do my reading! I meant my reading! I meant for you to do my reading!  _ **_You_ ** _ should do my  _ **_reading_ ** _ -!”  _

“I know, I know.” Asra caresses a hand across Jamie’s shoulders to squeeze the cusp in a comforting manner, smiling brightly in  _ extreme  _ amusement as he continues to softly laugh, “Don’t worry about it.” When Jamie seemed to have calmed down from his self imposed shame, Asra sets the deck of cards in front of him with his elbows leaning forward eagerly on the table. “The first thing you do is you ask the person you’re doing a reading on to cut the deck, or find a midpoint in between the top card and the bottom card to separate one pile into two. So, if you would…” He trails off as he gestures to the cards.

Jamie nods, taking a few breaths to recover before he trails his fingertips along the sides of the ornate cards. He picks some up and sets the two piles next to each other, all face down. “Now choose a pile and shuffle the cards.” 

Jamie follows his instructions, looking back up to Asra as he slides the cards back together. Asra then gingerly takes the cards from his grasp and sets them up in a circle, then three down the middle before he opens his hands to Jamie, “Now, choose three cards and put them in a row in front of you.” Jamie’s gaze furrows as he regards each of the cards, Asra hums as he watches his fingertips dance over the one at the bottom, “Don’t think about it too much. Let intuition be your guide.” 

Jamie glances up at him and nods briefly, taking a moment he slides one card from the bottom to the left, a card from the right side of the circle to the middle, then the card in the center to the far right. Once they three have been chosen, Asra collects the leftover cards and returns them to the deck before he situates the three cards in their proper positions in front of Jamie. “Just like with selecting the cards, reading them operates the same way. With knowledge about the Arcana and with their guidance, you can intuitively comprehend the circumstances of individuals you read from. Sometimes they can speak to you and tell you word for word what you are looking at, but most times it’s just a feeling that you have to translate into your own words. The better you understand the Arcana you’re reading from, the better your reading of the person will be.” 

Jamie blinks in surprise, staring at the cards below Asra’s fingertips, “... You talk about these Arcana like they’re…” He trails off awkwardly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before he murmurs, “... People. As if they talk like people talk.” 

Asra shrugs a little, “They’re not exactly people, but they are sentient. How do I say it… once you come into contact with one for the first time, I think it’ll be easier to comprehend. Their existences are complicated.” He raises an eyebrow at Jamie as his back straightens, hovering his hand over Jamie’s cards as Jamie looks on with a wide eyed look of mild concern, “Now… with the readings. The one I’m going to do with you is a very common one, referred to as a Past, Present, Future reading. The first card you chose represents the past. It highlights people, things, places, or influences from your past that have an affect on you presently. From there, the Arcana depicted can offer guidance or information about you that will aid in my understanding of you and your situation.” 

Jamie’s eyes immediately flicker to that card with a sudden tension in his jaw, his shoulders begin to bunch in bouquets and his hands slide to his lap, out of Asra’s sight, as he moves on to the second card, “The present card illustrate key people or situations that influence you. This card and the Past card help me to gather information about you and learn enough about you to give you a more accurate reading when I move on to your Future card.” He touches the third card to Jamie’s right. “It depicts different outcomes, which are dependent upon the different situations that you currently know. So, I couldn’t tell you when you’re destined to die based on these readings, for example, or anything else that’s far in the future… but I could tell you how situations that you are worried about may end up working out, or what you can do to make certain events come to pass.” 

Jamie lets out a soft breath that he sounds like he was holding. “... Interesting. I… I think I understand.” His eyes haven’t left Asra’s finger resting on the first card, like he’s afraid that something will jump out and attack him from beneath it.

Asra regards the other with a cautious expression, not exactly sure what’s causing him such apprehension he asks with a gentle voice, “... Are you ready?” 

The apple of his throat bobs as Jamie swallows, after a moment he hesitantly nods, his gaze finally peeling away from the Past card to Asra’s curious gaze. 

So, without waiting any longer, Asra flips the first card over. 

He recognizes the outstretched wings immediately, the slightly bowed head of the dove with the two different colored chalices facing in Asra’s direction. “Temperance, reversed.” Asra hums with an academic tone, his gaze flickering up to Jamie’s as he murmurs as an afterthought, “What direction a card faces, up or down in reference to who the reading is being done for, determines what part of the Arcana we’re dealing with. Temperance while upright can mean balance, moderation, patience, or purpose. Temperance reversed… well, it’s most obvious reading is the opposite, imbalance, but it also can mean self-healing, or a realignment within the self.” 

Jamie’s eyebrows furrow as he regards the tarot, his hands nervously twisting in his lap as his eyes dance like sunlight through warped glass, “So… What’s it telling you? How am I imbalanced?” 

Asra reaches out towards the card and lightly touches the sides, physically and mentally reaching out to the Arcana. Temperance is one of the less straight forward, but the Magician is very similar so he’s prepared when he’s filled with unformed shapes that he has to find the definitions for, like finding edges of furniture in a dark but familiar space.

“Something in your past still haunts you. Several things… things that leave you afraid to commit to places or to… people.” He pauses as he says this, glancing at Jamie for a moment of intrusive thought.  _ There’s an emphasis on people here, I feel it in the way Temperance pressures… Could it mean… could it mean that Jamie and I… does Jamie return my feelings for him? But… he’s afraid to admit it? Or he’s unsure of what they are? _

Suddenly, Temperance’s language changes. Asra is shocked; for once his reading is being answered with words rather than vague feelings, halfway through his message nonetheless. He doesn’t question it, he relays them to Jamie almost right as Temperance does, his voice and her words melt together in a honeyed lilt, “You’ve been running from your past for a long time. Even though a part of you thinks that you’ve stopped running, there’s a greater part that hasn’t. Caught on your heels, trapped in between places of flight and planting roots, you simultaneously want both desperately even while both terrify you.” 

Jamie visibly shifts, sitting far upright as he stares at the magician with a wide eyed gaze that Asra’s never seen before… almost like fear. He’s shocked because Temperance still isn’t finished, she still has more to say and Asra can’t remember if she’s ever said so much through him before. “You may find that help will come to you in the form you least expected. Helping to understand the circumstances that you ran from will help you heal from the wounds it left behind. Recovering from the life that you’ve endured is a journey, not a destination.” 

Jamie lets out a shaky breath, his eyes flown wide and his shoulders incredibly taut, and when it seems clear that Asra had finished his reading his gaze like molten gold snap to his so fiercely Asra has to take a moment to will his heartbeat to ease, “How’d you know all that?” 

Asra looks down at Temperance with a raised eyebrow, yet no matter how much he presses why she decided to take such an active hand, she doesn’t answer; like usual, his followup questions fall on deaf ears. “I’m not sure. Temperance has never been known to give so much before.” Asra murmurs as his gave flickers back up to Jamie’s, his own thoughts churn at the implications of what was said. 

Jamie’s…  _ extremely  _ reserved about his past. Even though Asra has known him for over a year now, he still doesn’t know anything about Jamie’s life before Vesuvia save for the very little he’s offered to tell him - one of those was that he spent two years of his teenage life on a farm with his Master Garmel until… something… made him leave when he was sixteen. Asra’s hung onto that memory because it’s one of the few pieces of Jamie’s past that he’s willingly offered to Asra. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the reason why Jamie doesn’t like to talk about it is because there’s some great shore of hurt on Jamie’s heart from some parts of his past, which is why Asra has never pressed him about it… but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t curious. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know what troubles him. 

It doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten about the lash scars on his back Asra had accidentally saw after they’d aided the spirit of the forest. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to know who gave them to Jamie, who hurt him so badly that even the mere mention of the north beyond the mountain range makes Jamie tense up like a coiled spring. He’s gotten better, he’s been willing to be a little more open with Asra… but in terms of secretivity, Jamie is only rivaled by Muriel, and that’s saying quite a lot.

Jamie lets out a slow breath after a moment, pulling Asra’s attention back to him as he gestures towards the cards, “Okay. What’s next?” 

Asra hesitates only to check in and ensure that Jamie is okay - he seems visibly alright, if a little quiet - before he rests a hand over the middle card, “... Alright. On to the Present it is.” He flips it over and is confronted with the bold golden gaze of an elephant headed figure, hang hovering over a dripping orb of water, facing in Jamie’s direction. “Judgement.” 

Jamie raises an eyebrow and taps the corner with a finger, “Is this upright?”

Asra nods. “Judgement is about rebirth, an inner calling, or absolution when it’s upright…” Suddenly, the Arcana’s presence swarms his mind in the bold and brash manner she always does, like a stampede of sensations, emotions, demands. Only once the intensity of it passes can Asra open his eyes and look to Jamie, “Her advice is this: don’t hesitate.” Jamie blinks at Asra with confusion, so he elaborates as best as he can based on the sensations Judgement sent him, “You know what you need to do to proceed, and you know that you are capable of doing it, so don’t let self-doubt hold you back from following the path.”

“... That’s a little more straight forward.” Jamie mutters with a slightly amused chuckle that evaporates the tension that Asra hadn’t realized was accumulated in his shoulders.

Letting out a similar laugh, Asra smiles as he makes a gesture towards the cards, “Some Arcana are more inclined to be clear than others, it depends on who you ask, what you’re asking, and how you’re asking it.” 

Jamie curls his nose adorably as he leans his chin into his palms, “So, if I always ask the cards  _ really nicely…”  _

Asra chuckles, beaming at the other as he rests his palms in curled fingers on the tabletop, “Then I’m positive that they would be unable to resist you.” 

Jamie waves him off with a laugh, “Flatterer.” 

Asra decides to press his luck. “Is it flattery if it’s the truth?” 

Jamie pauses as if to consider this for a moment before he shrugs, “You’re asking the wrong man, I know nothing about philosophy.” Before Asra can open his mouth and say anything along the lines of  _ no that’s not what I meant,  _ Jamie gestures to the third and final card, “So, Future card?” 

Asra clears his throat to wash away his half thought words. “... Yes. Future. Let’s see.” 

He flips over the card and sees the face of a decorated, humanoid lioness, with tawny wings on either side of her overtop of a part of an ornate wheel, dashes of black and white beneath the listless marigold of the lioness’ eyes. She’s facing Asra’s direction, and her eyes seem to pin him to his seat. “Wheel of Fortune, reversed.” 

“That doesn’t look like a wheel of fortune.” Jamie murmurs under his breath as he narrows his eyes at the card before he gasps touching the bottom half of the card, “Oh wait, I see, there’s the wheel. Sorry, it’s upside do- I mean reversed.” He clears his throat with a slight blush of embarrassment before he looks to Asra with an eager eye of learning, “So what’s the Wheel of Fortune mean when it’s reversed?” 

Asra chews on his bottom lip. “It can mean bad luck, or breaking cycles, or resistance to change.” 

Jamie frowns a little as he peers down at the card, “... That doesn’t sound great. So, what’s it say about me?” 

Asra’s fingertips linger over the card for a long while, trying to reach out to the Arcana. Its meaning is uncertain at first, indistinct like the difference between fog and clouds, until her voice reaches Asra’s thoughts as if she’s shouting them from the Lazaret and he’s standing on the docks. Asra tries his best to represent her message to Jamie accurately, albeit with furrowed eyebrows, “Through a series of unfortunate events, chains of your own making will be broken. It’s up to you whether you will allow yourself to remain nothing but a victim, cycle to cycle, or to break those manacles beyond repair.”

Jamie blinks at him for a moment before he hums softly, “Hmm. Ominous.” He looks down at the three cards before him before he looks back up to Asra, “Are all readings like that?” 

Asra collects the cards back into his deck with a subtle smile, “All readings are unique to who the reading is for… so yours is particularly special.” He says this with a charming smile thrown in Jamie’s direction a tad haphazardly, before he can help himself.

Jamie nods slightly in agreement, “I mean, it makes sense since I’m also a magician.” He taps his fingertips lightly to his lips, a mesmerizing gesture that Asra is drawn into like a moth to a flame before Jamie’s gaze flickers to life, “So that’s how you do readings? Listen to the cards? Or the sentient-not-people behind the cards?” 

With a nod Asra pockets is tarot deck away with a bashful shrug, “It takes some training to figure out context details. Sometimes things are clear, sometimes they are not… but it’ll be interesting to watch you discover the Arcanas’ voices.” 

Jamie lets out a soft breath, looking back at where the cards once laid out in front of him, “I suppose we’ll have to see.”

…

Time flows ever onward. Spring comes and emerges into summer, the warmth of the atmosphere keeping Vesuvia alive and bright even into the depths of the night. The Count returns just in time for the Masquerade before leaving again just afterward for another series of conquests, though in the short time he’s around it launches Asra into some madness with the masks he and Muriel make every year. It’s mostly because for some strange reason Muriel stopped making masks and would disappear for days on end before returning without any explanation, no matter how hard Asra would prod him Muriel would offer nothing and would be far more distant than usual. It was only for the time of the Masquerade, however, so Asra assumed it had something to do with the increased activity in the city and didn’t pressure him on it. Everyone has their bad weeks, he knew.

Another one of Jamie’s productions were in full swing at the time, so Asra didn’t get to see him, but they’d already established their schedule before his rehearsals began so that when the Masquerade was over he began to come by the shop in a relatively regular manner to work. One of those days he came by in order to give him a present, a new set of knitting needles and a rather extravagant yarn for his birthday - Asra was rather incredulous that he remembered, but extremely touched that he did, and had gotten him supplies for several new sweaters for Faust. Afterwards Jamie took him out to  _ The Lighthouse  _ for his favorites before he trekked the pair out into the forest to join up with Muriel for a night of revelry and camaraderie, playing these strange little games that neither Muriel nor Asra had heard of before - such as “Pin The Antlers on the Peryton” - though Asra enjoyed them nonetheless. Even Muriel seemed to be in good spirits, Asra swore he saw the ghosts of his smile throughout the evening. 

Jamie put in some serious effort for that evening to be special… and it did things to the white haired magician. Asra would be lying if he said that he didn’t think about that night constantly, even once the leaves in the forest started to change colors again. He’s positive now that when he dreams of Jamie, the smile he sees in his dreams is the same smile that had enveloped him in the firelight of Muriel’s hut. It was also that night that Asra realized his feelings for Jamie ran far deeper than he ever could’ve imagined. Far, far deeper… into his heart. 

Asra had to teach Jamie a great many things in preparation for working at the shop; he made him some lists and some guidelines to help him learn all of the different types of charms, the types of readings, what each of the Arcana represents. Once winter fell on Vesuvia once again Jamie has truly begun to grasp it easily, though the readings were still a challenge for him. Asra would work together with him on those, however; beyond that, Jamie could largely hold his own, he could sell charms as well as if not better than the makers themselves… though that’s not saying as much for Muriel as it does for Asra. 

He was proud to watch Jamie’s progress… but not without a touch of concern because once the Masquerade was over, Jamie started acting… strangely. 

It wasn’t immediately obvious, and Asra was uncertain why, but there would be times when Jamie’s gaze would drift off or glaze over, beyond this realm and in a memory, and when he would return to reality he would flinch from the slightest of noise, once it was as benign as Faust plopping on the counter in front of him. He’d be back to normal afterwards, smiling in his own beautiful, mystical way that made Asra almost forget about what happened that led so such a smile. Almost. 

He’d also taken to wearing his layered cloak and his gloves again; his cloak is becoming threadbare from use and at first Asra thought this choice was because of the colder weather but even on a random fall day where it was bright and warm outside he had worn it still like it was actively snowing. However, he’s stopped wearing the gloves for about a week ago now because they’d developed so many holes that it was hardly covering anything anymore, but he wears long sleeves up to the knuckles of his thumbs instead like he can tug on his shirt enough to make himself a new pair of gloves out of the sleeve hems. Not so strange anymore now that it’s deep in winter, but after what he’s been seeing… Asra isn’t quite so sure of its solely utilitarian uses.

He was willing to wait some time before he would pressure him about it. Of course Asra has asked him if he has been alright in the past, but Jamie would always nod with that sweet smile and wave him off, giving some vague excuse that Asra’s reluctant to take at face value. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Jamie; he has known him for over two years now, he knows him well enough to figure out that Jamie doesn’t want to burden him with his problems. Asra finds that heartbreaking… but ultimately unacceptable. He is Jamie’s friend, at the bare minimum - even though he dreams every night of something more - his issues are never a burden to him. 

But Asra’s slowly learning that perceiving subtlety is not Jamie’s strong suite, so that means a discussion is inevitable. It’s just a matter of timing. 

Jamie came in today to work behind the counter while Asra counted each type of herb and charm for inventory. He’d just returned from a trip to get supplies - though it was largely to sate his inner desire to travel and to give Jamie some space to breathe before he pushes his boundaries too far - and it took some reorganizing to accommodate for the new charms and herbs he’d found. He was doing that now, tallying how much of every product they had on a little sheet beside him before rearranging their places on the shelves to accommodate the new things, not the worst task, though time consuming. Hence why Asra is glad that Jamie is there to mind any customers while Asra did it.

At this moment, Jamie is leaning against the wood on one elbow, his fingertips drumming on the table as he stared into another world and Asra catches glimpses of royal halls in his eyes. He can’t help but steal these glances when it seems that Jamie’s not paying attention, looking across the gentle slope of his shoulders and up the soft, pale skin under his jaw that’s revealed like a secret in the low light, to the lovely curve of his lips… 

The bell of the front door rings and a customer walks in. Jamie starts a little upright and smiles that bright, winning smile that single handedly warms Asra’s chest as he greets them, though admittedly the words exchanged between them are lost on Asra as he’s halted in his counting to simply  _ stare.  _ Jamie isn’t exactly naturally charismatic; he’s a little stilted, but endearingly so, even when he stumbles over his own words all listening can’t help but smile, not at his expense but simply because his existence is so…  _ authentic.  _ He may be secretive about his past, but not about himself, his personality, his attitude… it’s  _ magnetic  _ to Asra. 

He hears the clinking exchange of coin as the customer waves with a smile, one of Muriel’s charms at hand as they walk out the door. Jamie smiles in triumph and flashes Asra the coin as he rounds about the counter, slotting it in the pouch they keep payments in just beneath the clothed surface in a hidden compartment. “I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever sold a charm.” He boasts proudly with a winning smile.

Asra chuckles softly and remembers that he was supposed to be counting, not kneeling to stare at Jamie, so he continues with his task as he replies, “I’m not surprised. You have a very natural charm that compels people to listen to you.”

Jamie rolls his eyes playfully at Asra as he walks around the counter, hovering in the space between, “I was going to get a drink… do you have dishes you need done? I can do those while I’m getting water, since it’s slow right now.”

Asra blinks in confusion before carmine embarrassment begins to blossom and burn, “You don’t have to do that if…” 

“I want to.” Jamie takes his non-answer as an affirmation as he takes the bucket from the backdoor and then out the back. A few minutes later he comes back inside with the full bucket and there’s the sound of his thunking footsteps as he climbs up to where Asra’s dishes lie in the small room adjacent to his bedroom, and then the sound of quiet jostling. Water sloshing here, clinking of silverware there. 

Faust, who was slithering across the bookshelf down towards Asra, drops to his shoulders as he stands upright from where he was kneeling on the floor.  _ “Nice friend!!”  _

“... Yeah.” Asra murmurs under his breath, his head completely distracted as his eyes are on the stairs, “Lucky me.” 

Eventually, having lost count of his herbs anyway and wanting to be near Jamie, Asra heads up the steps with Faust around his neck with the excuse prepared that he wanted to help him with the dishes. He sees Jamie’s back as he approaches, his long black braid hanging down his spine with some thick strands loose and hanging to his shoulders. His cloak is off, resting on the back of the chair next to him, revealing fully the mediterranean and royal blue hues of his tunic, belted at his waist and fraying a little at the seams from age; it’s so innately Jamie to see him in Asra’s home in these older clothes that Asra just has to stand and admire him for a moment, pausing at the top of the stairs. 

That’s when he hears Jamie, humming under his breath some tune that Asra has never heard before, it sounds like a bardic tale. He wonders idly if it’s from a show Jamie performed in as he approaches silently from the stairwell behind him. Once he’s next to him Asra bumps Jamie’s shoulder with an affectionate smile, looking over and down at his hands in the bucket of dishes on the counter as he murmurs, “May I offer my assist-” He suddenly trails off against his will when he sees Jamie’s hands and forearms, laid bare in the low sunlight of the room by his rolled up sleeves. Asra expects to see ivory and porcelain but instead he sees blooming violets and sickly greens and yellows like vomit curling around the skin of Jamie’s wrists, even through the soapy suds. 

As if sensing his hesitation Jamie freezes with his hands still in the water, turned around to look at him with wide eyes so for a few moments they simply stand there staring at each other. The spell seems to break when Asra’s gaze flickers back down to his still hands, sudsy but the light streaming in fully puts the bruises on display for Asra to clearly see that it’s no deception or trick of the light. “Jamie is… are…?” 

He begins to formulate the question,  _ how did this happen, are you okay,  _ but Jamie acts faster, Asra is sluggish and slow like a sloth in comparison as Jamie hurriedly thrusts his hands out of the water and towels them dry on his cloak from the table, pulls it on and rolls his sleeves back down as he replies tersely, “I-I need to get going, I’ve been here too long as it is-”

“Jamie, wait!” Asra holds out a hand to him but he’s too slow to actually grab Jamie. His face is starting to turn crimson as he suddenly marches down the stairs without turning back to even look at Asra. “Jamie! Please, wait!” Asra calls again as he goes down the stairs after him but he’s too late, the front door’s bell rings as Jamie flees into the afternoon sunlight, even when Asra runs after him he doesn’t see his dark form in the empty street. 

He’s completely alone. 

He stands there for a long time, and would’ve stood there a little longer if a long shadow didn’t come across his form, making Asra blink as the light surrounding him changed. When he turns around he gazes up to see Muriel towering over him, looking in the direction Asra just was as he grumbles a bit begrudgingly, “... Are you okay?” 

Asra isn’t sure how to respond. He furrows his brows as he glances back at where Jamie must’ve went before he reluctantly returns to his shop. He hears Muriel enter and shut the door behind him, his massive shoulders taking up the entire entryway as Asra flips the open sign to closed. “How long were you standing there?” Asra asks simply, glancing over his shoulder at his friend. 

Muriel shuffles inside, minding some of the ornaments that hang down a little lower than the others. Asra makes a mental note to hike up their height a little further so Muriel doesn’t have to be cautious. “Just a minute ago. I was just going to drop off more charms for you to sell… You were standing outside…” He trails off before his voice drops to a worried sort of discomfort, it warbles with a deep tenor, “... You look upset.” 

When Asra’s gaze tracks up to Muriel’s he can see past the milkweeds and shadowed oak trees of his eyes to see the concern there, quiet but tangible. 

Asra lets out a soft sigh as he feels Faust squirming out from where she had buried herself in his scarf, he holds his arms aloft so that she can situate herself as she pleases but she doesn’t move except to raise her head, peering out through the folds of cloth up at Asra. She doesn’t say anything, but Asra finds himself nodding in agreement anyway without her having to as he breathes again, “I am. I think I just discovered something that Jamie didn’t want me to… something bad.” 

He makes his way to the back room out of habit, sitting in his seat where he usually does readings but this time he feels far more troubled, like he should be sitting on the other side of the table. Muriel makes his way back as well, moving very slowly as if he’s afraid he’s going to break something before he sets down a small satchel, he can heft it easily with only one hand but it’s rather substantial heft for Asra to attempt to lift. Inside he can see some of Muriel’s protection charms. 

“Not like that.” Asra counters quickly before Muriel gets the wrong idea, his hands curl defensively on the tabletop as he shifts and glances towards the small window in the back room, protected with a large blanket to keep the cold of winter out. “I think…” 

Asra grows quiet, pensive, considering. Gathering the evidence in his mind. What he’s seen, what he’s heard… from Jamie, from customers, some who used to work with or at the theatre, from those he has encountered who know its ringleader. A theory begins to form and it makes Asra’s stomach tie in knots. He doesn’t want to admit it, he doesn’t want it to be true, but the more he thinks about it the more sense it begins to make. Jamie would never  _ allow _ someone to hurt him, Asra remembers the night they met - specifically with the bandits - well enough to know that Jamie is not afraid of fighting back… unless those that hurt him had more than just physical power over him. Unless they were using that power to tell Jamie to remain silent. Otherwise… wouldn’t Jamie have told him? Why would he run away otherwise? 

“I think Ksasthra’s been hurting him.” 

Muriel’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, so quickly Asra begins to elaborate. “He has these large bruises on his wrists, right here.” He shows his friend by clasping his own wrists, his words are choppy as uncertain panic begins to settle over his shoulders like an itchy blanket, “And some of them are older, but others are new. He has been trying to hide them with the clothes he wears, as soon as he saw that I saw them he ran away before I could act, I…” Asra takes a moment and lets out a slow breath as his heart rate thunders in his ears, reminding himself of the present moment rather than of the anxieties coursing through his veins. 

Muriel moves from his up-in-arms position over Asra’s shoulder to instead slowly sink into his seat across from him, his arms held awkwardly in his lap with locked elbows. Asra continues once he’s able to calm himself back down to a normal level of speaking, even though his thoughts are like scattered crows dotting a backlit sky. “I don’t know what to do about it. I can’t-” Muriel straightens a little as Asra pounds his fist into his palm, “I  _ have  _ to do something! Jamie’s getting hurt and I will not allow that to happen! But…” He trails off again as his gaze lists to the side, worry and apprehension filling between his ears like fruitflies, “I don’t know how I can help without him either getting hurt again… or… what if he becomes mad at me for getting involved in a situation I have no right to get involved in?” 

Those are two likely options in Asra’s mind. They weren’t the driving thoughts he had when he had raced out the door and they were the nagging thoughts that made him retrace his steps and freeze in the street, paralyzed in taking the wrong path. He could hypothetically and feasibly force himself into this problem and try to remedy it… but at what cost? He doesn’t want Jamie to think that he can’t handle his problems for himself… but he might need some help. He seems like he needs help… but what could Asra do without potentially hurting him? 

Muriel makes a soft grunt as he shifts in his seat, Asra blinks up at him as he peers towards the doorway with an uncertain gaze. “... You could go after him.” 

Asra shakes his head swiftly, “If I go by his house, Ksasthra might be there and I’d be putting him in danger.” His eyebrows furrow as his hands clench into slight fists on the tabletop. “... Muriel, he’s in this situation because of me. Because Ksasthra doesn’t like him being with me. If I had just… ” Asra loses the will to speak almost as soon as the thought manifests, his shoulders sagging downward. 

Faust slithers out from within his tunic and onto the table to wind around his forearms and wrists, gently squeezing him in the way she knows calms him best as her thoughts brush against his,  _ “Not your fault!”  _

He takes a soft breath in before he lets it out again. He knows she’s right… and the way that Muriel is looking at him, he can tell that Muriel would feel the same if he could hear her. Some part of Asra also knows it’s right too… perhaps he just needed to hear it. “… Thank you, Faust.” Asra murmurs affectionately, shaking those thoughts free and letting them scatter into the wind but just as he straightens upright and Faust curls into a pile on the center of the table he suddenly feels an abrupt compulsion coming from his pockets. Blindly he reaches inside and produces his tarot deck and from within he can hear the cards whispering to him, though whose voice it is he cannot tell with their presences all cluttered together. 

“What’s happening?” Muriel murmurs, the green hues of his mistrustful gaze settling on the tarot deck as well. He isn’t as finely attuned with the Arcana as Asra is - though he has a relatively closer relationship with The Hermit, since Asra thinks they’ve met before in the past - it makes Asra wonder if he can sense their calling as he does right now.

“I think the cards are telling me to do a reading.” Asra’s eyes don’t leave the cards as he speaks to his friend, who is looking on with a clouded and concerned expression. Slowly Asra spreads out the cards as he usually does, selecting three for a regular reading before he flips over the first to reveal the mystic, wolfish features of The Moon staring back at him. Her voice shimmers like disturbed dust in an abandoned stack of books through his thoughts and across his consciousness, words barely heard but completely understandable as if spoken in a second language long forgotten,  _ “Fear of what ifs cloud your judgment. Those worries do not pertain to what actions you must take, but you are letting them guide your hand instead. You know the answer to the questions you will ask.”  _

Asra lets out a short breath as he looks at the card, but as he stares into the profile of the wolf she grows silent and recedes into her realm, out of his presence and into the wild. Muriel looks on, mute and concerned as Asra turns over the second card. 

This one is The Chariot, their leopard printed visage undefined as they hang in the reversed position at his fingertips. Their voice is coy, teasing as its presence seems to dance across Asra’s fingertips and into his thoughts like Faust slithers along his skin,  _ “Seeking answers with an answer in your pocket is like asking someone else for directions to the palace. You know where you’re going, you just want to know what’s the most efficient way to get there, do you not? But who can navigate this city better than you?”  _ With a soft laugh the enigmatic, slightly playful presence of The Chariot fades, and with it Asra feels his confusion peter and recede like the pull of the tide. 

Muriel watches as resolution begins to build in Asra’s bronze features, blocks of certainty come together as if for the foundation of a grand edifice. 

He turns over the third and final card. 

Even while reversed the iron visage of The Emperor is tangible, intensity is bred inset into the thickness of his broad, oxen neck and in the finely tuned point of his silvered horns. His presence is like the ring of an ominous gong, it sounds and reverberates and silences everything, hanging in the air of Asra’s thoughts until words press into Asra’s mind like a seal into wet wax:  _ “Confrontation is inevitable.” _

The pull recedes with the Arcana as they leave Asra with their words, three strikes as he returns them slowly to the deck with the soft, fibrous sound as they slide and rejoin their peers. Muriel flickers his murky, forested gaze down to Asra’s hands and then to his still face as he murmurs, “... What did they say?” 

Asra glances down at his cards, then slowly back towards the front of the shop. Through the curtains he can see the front door beyond the counter, but hitching on his eyes in between rests Jamie’s satchel, right where he usually keeps it just behind the counter. 

The world seems to be lining Asra exactly towards what he needs to do, and Asra has never been one to ignore fate’s signals. 

Asra gives Muriel the run down of his plan before he takes Jamie’s satchel and sets off towards South End, mindful now that it’s getting into the evening and the sun will set on the hour. Muriel didn’t like it - he’s never been fond of Asra taking risks - but Asra could not simply stand by and wait for something to happen. Besides… Jamie forgot his satchel. He never goes anywhere without it, so he’s bound to need that sooner rather than later… though the Arcana did push Asra into the direction of taking that risk for him rather than waiting on Jamie. He just… needs some more information. Some way he can help Jamie get out of this situation, he’d give him as much money as he needed, steal it, even, if he had to, if it meant that he didn’t have to live another day with- 

He’s approaching the house. The streets seem darker here, tinged red from the aged lampshades of the lanterns on the street. Asra keeps glancing over his shoulder to ensure that Muriel’s following him and each time he does he gets just a bare shred of him in his line of sight, a bit of cloak here, black hair overtop a full cart there. Muriel thinks that he’s being stealthy, but a man of his size can’t stay truly hidden save for the best of circumstances, and Asra will give him credit that given what environment he has to hide in, he is trying admirably to stay out of sight. He’d said he was gonna head back home, but Asra knew he meant to follow him until the situation seemed resolved. He had to admit, he felt a bit safer; not that he thinks that Muriel could protect him, no, Muriel would never hurt a fly, but that extra set of eyes on Asra made him feel a little more secure in what he was about to do. 

When he turns onto the street, he stands close to the house next to Jamie’s and holds his arms towards the roof of the conjoining buildings, whispering under his breath, “You’ve got this!” 

_ “Got this!”  _ Faust enthusiastically but seriously proclaims in his head as she quickly slithers off of his arm and onto the tiles, making her way up and around towards the back end of the house. With her gone, Asra hangs around next to the house, more like at the neighbor's doorway than Jamie’s, with his arms crossed and with his eyes periodically checking up and down the street for signs of Ksasthra. He planned this out with her on the walk here; Asra would release Faust and she would find a way in, move through the house and check every room before letting him know if Jamie and Ksasthra was there or not. If Ksasthra is home then they wait until he’s asleep before slipping in, if he’s not then Asra’s free to enter. Or they might simply have to come back later if Jamie isn’t home yet, and Asra would start thinking of places he could’ve gone… But what he’s hoping for is that Jamie is home, alone. He needs information. He needs to see  _ Jamie. _ If Jamie’s hurting then Asra can’t just sit by and… 

He hears Faust, not speaking to Asra but to herself.  _ “Friend!!”  _ Immediately Asra’s heart rate quickens,  _ he is home, excellent.  _ Suddenly Faust’s heartbeat, like Asra’s own, begins to thunder louder and quicker and more worried as her voice now more directly addresses her magician,  _ “Door!!”  _

Before Asra can act, he straightens upright right as a creaking door echoes in the street. Asra can’t think, he doesn’t have time to do more than uncross his arms and turn towards the sound before he’s faced with a familiar, unfriendly, scowling face halfway outside the door to Jamie’s home. 

“What are you doing here?” Ksasthra growls with a voice none too friendly. 

_ Oh no.  _

Asra hadn’t gotten a chance to cast a forget-me-not charm on himself in case he was caught, even if he casts it now Ksasthra will still remember this moment. 

_ … Fuck.  _

“... Sorry, are you speaking to me?” Asra turns towards the other, focusing all his attention in seeming as lackadaisical in his movements as possible. He’s not in the wrong here and he refuses to act like he is, regardless of Ksasthra’s attitude.

“You are not welcome here.” Ksasthra states again with finality. It’s slick like oil and carries heavily in the air as smog carries through water. 

Asra loves first impressions. 

“Where? This street in particular?” Asra continues in the same coy manner. He doesn’t want a fight, and he doesn’t think that Ksasthra will try to give him one, but just in case he senses the air around him for water to be summoned in case he decides to try anything. 

Ksasthra doesn’t seem to be buying the smokescreen Asra’s portraying. He bares it teeth at Asra and snarls like a wild dog, “Jamie doesn’t want you here. Take your converting occult nonsense and begone.” 

_ ‘Converting occult nonsense?’  _

_ … So that’s why he doesn’t like me.  _ Asra settles the long-wondered question as he merely raises an eyebrow at Ksasthra without a change in expression. “I didn’t come here to ‘convert’ anyone. I came here because Jamie… misplaced his bag and I wanted to see it returned to him.” He doesn’t want to tell Ksasthra he left it at his shop. That offers too much information that Asra doesn’t think he has a right to have, and could potentially endanger Jamie.

Ksasthra gives Asra a once over that leaves his skin feeling particularly cold before he holds out a hand, he realizes it’s towards Jamie’s satchel under his arm. “I’ll have that, then.” 

Asra turns his body so that the satchel is out of his reach, his lavender eyes never leaving the steely black depths of the other’s, “I said I’d like to  _ see it  _ returned to him.” 

Ksasthra tsks under his breath with an angry click of his tongue as he swings a hand towards the house, “He isn’t here. You should consider yourself lucky that I haven’t called the guards on you!” 

Asra can’t help the distasteful look he gives Ksasthra on a silvery platter. “And what interest would the guard possibly have?” 

“Well, last I checked, they typically spend a large amount of their time dealing with  _ thieves.”  _ He glares at Asra with a pointed look at the satchel, holding his hand out once again. When Asra doesn’t move nor blink at the accusation he continues with a sharper, more terse tone, “But I’m sure the stalking you’ve been doing would also pique their interest, if you’re truly so eager to be clapped in irons.” 

Asra’s gaze darkens, his tongue presses hot to the roof of his mouth as he murmurs between his canines,  _ “Stalking?”  _

Ksasthra sighs, as if tired by the banter. “I’m willing to let this slide this once, if you give me the satchel and go on your way.” Asra doesn’t move, staring with darkened faerie fire into his face as he adds with a faux-amiable aside, “Come on now, I don’t any any trouble, unless you’re seeking some.” 

Asra doesn’t answer, remaining still like an oak tree before the man’s beckoning hand. Evidently tired of waiting, like a viper Ksasthra’s hand clamps on the strap of Jamie’s bag and even though Asra snatches onto it as well, Ksasthra simply tugs hard enough for the strap to break so the bag swings like a pendulum to him before he hooks it under his arm. 

“Now if you’re quite finished with your faux-saintly behavior, I want you off of my doorstep. Immediately.” He gives Asra a hard look that makes Asra’s hands clench into fists before he heads back inside his house and slams the door, rattling the frame of it as it settles in its place. It’s followed by the audible click of a lock turning. 

_ … That could have gone better.  _

Just as Asra’s about to reach out to Faust to see how she’s doing, he suddenly feels her jolt in fear as if through his own body, his eyes widen as he stares into empty space and feels her thoughts shiver into his own,  _ “Friend in trouble!!”  _

_ … Well that settles it. ‘Jamie’s not home, huh?’  _ Darkness settles over Asra’s visage and his heart as he steps up to the door and seizes the knob. It’s a simple spell to undo a locking mechanism like this, it takes but a moment for the latch to pull out of the doorway and for Asra to turn it and step inside with quiet clicks. He doesn’t question the action, questions are no longer necessary, the only thing on Asra’s mind is  _ Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.  _

It’s dark inside, at first the only light seems to be coming from a far window into a back alley. As Asra’s eyes adjust he can see four doorways, the two to his left are open and shimmering, golden candlelight is streaming out from the one closest to his left, long, dizzyingly moving shadows shifting across the open doorway. A sound of a scuffle resonates within, then an audible huff and  _ clink,  _ like something heavy just fell onto a pile of jewelry. Quickly but cautiously he approaches and peeks his head around the corner with all the stealth he can muster. 

The first thing he sees is Jamie lying on his back, shifting up after he’d just fallen. Beneath his forearms holding him upright is a large pile of coin, a rather significant pile at that, amongst the shattered remains of what must have been a pot of some sort. Hovering over him is Ksasthra, his face is nothing but a mass of shadow in the streaming room, the uncertainness of the light coming from the swinging lantern behind him, having gotten caught up in the skirmish. 

Asra doesn’t hesitate or drink in the scene any longer as soon as Ksasthra takes another step towards Jamie, he has the answers he needs to take action. He steps into the light and into the doorway, summoning his magic around him with a pulse from deep in his chest like the swell of a tidal wave as he snaps, “Get away from him.” 

Both Ksasthra and Jamie’s heads snap towards Asra. Jamie’s eyes fly wide in shock, but Asra doesn’t get a chance to look at him for longer than a second when Ksasthra starts to move menacingly towards him,  _ “You!  _ What the  _ hell  _ do you  _ think  _ you’re  _ doing in-!”  _

Asra raises his hands before him and he pulls on the essence of water, manifesting it in daggered shapes around him before clenching his fists, forcing them to harden into ice. They shimmer and glow a glacial blue in the low light and cause Ksasthra to pause over an arm’s length away from him. “Don’t move.” Asra orders without any emotion, even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He is nothing  _ but _ emotion, rage, frustration, uncertainty, fear, but he lets nothing show because now is not the time. Jamie needs him. 

Ksasthra growls and takes another step and this time Asra follows through on his unspoken threat. He pulls on the well of power deep within him and tosses forth a draught of energy that causes Ksasthra to stumble backward, then with two of the daggers of ice Asra jabs outwards and impales two of them into Ksasthra’s luxe-lined clothes. He jolts and lets out a cry as one of them no doubt nicks his arm but Asra can’t find it in him to care too much about that; all that matters is that Ksasthra now struggles in vain against the magical restraints, pinned to the far wall and out of harming range. 

Once he’s certain of that, he lets the remaining icicles hover as he rushes to Jamie’s side, crouching beside him and cupping his face in his hands, “Jamie, are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Jamie shakes his head, but now that Asra can see him up close and personal his heart tremors and aches beyond imagining. His hair is out of its braid, messy and tangled like it was used as a grappling device and as Asra angles his jaw upwards and better into the light he can see a small trail of blood from a cut on his bottom lip. Asra touches his thumb to it and uses his magic to heal him without a second thought before he moves downward to investigate his form. He has some smaller cuts on his forearms, no doubt from falling into the broken pottery he’s lying in, but now that he has no soap and no cloak Asra can plainly see the deep bruises on his wrists and also just above his elbows, all varying in age and size. 

Asra pours some magic into him to heal the small cuts and bruises, even though it takes a few seconds he wouldn’t be able to rest until it had been done. Jamie ducks his head as Asra looks him over and heals his wounds, submitting to the investigation but otherwise he says nothing. His shimmering golden eyes drift away and his face begins to burn a deep crimson like he’s sitting too close to fire, pliant beneath Asra’s dextrous fingers. He’s shivering as if from the cold of the outdoors, even though it’s quite warm within the building.

Asra isn’t the type of person to get angry. He truly isn’t. He feels his emotions, he understands them, then he lets them go, that’s how he experiences it, that’s how he’s always experienced it. But something about seeing these marks on someone who has stolen his heart so completely fills him with nothing but that bitter, coppery taste of rage, the kind he hasn’t felt in a long time… the kind he’s reluctant to let go. 

The coins beneath them jingle as Jamie sits upright a bit more, Asra snaps out of his thoughts to rest his hands on his shoulder to steady him. He can feel that he’s shaking, trembling like a leaf caught on a branch in a violent wind… His eyes are glazed over and distant, shame brandished in the way his shoulders curl inward and away from Asra, the way his face angles downward and out of the settling light. 

Asra knows what to do. He has accomplished his first priority: making sure Jamie’s okay. Now it’s onto his second priority: get him out of the situation. Now. “Jamie…” Asra murmurs softly to the other, drawing his wonderful gilded gaze to his, glossy and so far away that he has difficulty reading Jamie in the low light. “Why don’t you pack your things? Let’s get out of here.” 

Jamie’s bottom lip suddenly begins to wobble, and for a moment Asra thinks he’s about to burst into tears until he doesn’t, instead he seems to swallow whatever was threatening to emerge down and suppress it with an audible swallow. He responds with a soft monotone, he’s looking at Asra but he has a feeling that Jamie isn’t actually  _ seeing _ him. “Are you sure?” 

Asra’s heart clenches painfully in his chest as he gently smoothes his hand over his hair, nodding quickly in response, “You can stay with me. It’ll be okay.” 

Jamie furrows his brows, unsure for a moment until the sound of the coins shifting can be heard and the two of them look up just as Faust crosses the room from beneath the bed. She curls around Jamie’s leg and squeezes, Asra can hear her speaking to him even though she knows he can’t hear her,  _ “With us!”  _ She slithers upward and around Jamie’s shoulders to act as a comforting weight, her forked tongue dashing out to kiss his cheek. Jamie seems to appreciate this, as he lets out a soft sigh with a gentle hand sliding across her scales before he closes his eyes and nods. 

As the two stand upright Ksasthra starts hissing, “Jamie, don’t listen to him! Don’t let him manipulate you-” 

Asra jerks a hand in his direction and one of the daggers hovering near him suddenly launches towards him, stopping but a handbreadth away from Ksasthra’s wide, black eyes. “Stop talking.” Asra states with finality. He’s only exchanged a handful of sentences with Ksasthra but he’s already had enough of what comes out of his mouth. “Jamie can make his own decisions without your hand.” He continues with an open palm in Ksasthra’s direction.

Ksasthra curls his lip at him, but the threat is substantial enough that he doesn’t respond as Jamie starts to go about the room to collect his things. Now that Asra’s attention has widened, he realizes that this must’ve been Jamie’s bedroom; it’s small, big enough for the three of them to exist in this space without being too close together but not much bigger than that. The only furniture within is a bed sized perfectly for one person and a wooden chest next to it, along with some knick knacks lined on the windowsill that’s been boarded up with wooden planks - except for the hole near the top, which Asra figures Faust must have slithered through. 

Jamie first grabs his satchel with the strap that Ksasthra broke, lying on its side by the chest, before he opens the chest and grabs a larger sack from within and starts to tuck things inside. He moves quickly but quietly, never once looking in Ksasthra’s direction just like how one avoids the sun on a hot day. His gaze may as well be the sun, bearing down on Jamie’s shoulders with disgruntled rage. 

Eventually he seems fed up with trying to bully Jamie with his eyes as they land instead on Asra, “You’re going to regret this, you wicked-” 

Asra’s fist clenches. The dagger made of magical ice touches Ksasthra’s throat and fortunately it seems his tongue has frozen in his mouth. “I won’t ask again.” Asra reminds him with a searing glare.

Jamie unfreezes from his task and quickly pulls his things together. He has a surprisingly little amount of stuff to his name, like he’s been living here for two and a half months instead of two and a half years. Everything he owns fits inside of a sack about as big as his torso. Once it’s packed, he opens his coin purse and starts to pile the money on the floor inside of it. Asra blinks down at it for a moment in surprise that Jamie had this much coin before he remembers that he’s been saving up for his own place. Based on how many coins he can see… he’d saved up a surprisingly substantial amount. 

But Ksasthra must have found his stash before he was ready. The broken pottery, smashed on the floor, reflects that. Asra only hopes that the pot the coins lived in didn’t have significant meaning to Jamie… It’s not like Asra needs any more of a reason to despise Ksasthra. 

Once all of his belongings are packed, Jamie hugs it to his chest with both arms, his head hung and bowed downward. “Is that everything?” Asra asks softly, gently resting a hand on his waist. Jamie stiffens at the gesture and Asra immediately pulls his arm away, but Jamie steps closer to him until his shoulder is pressed right into Asra’s. Though Jamie’s expression doesn’t change, Asra realizes that the flinch was an instinctual reaction and not reflecting a desire not to be touched, so he responds by resettling his hand back where he had it. 

“Yes.” Jamie responds once he’d done so in a voice so soft and monotonous it’s like the whisper of a puppet, “That’s all.” 

Ksasthra snarls one last time as the two head through the bedroom doorway, “I’ll have the guards on you before you know it, witch!” 

Asra shifts to wrap his arm around Jamie’s waist as they head for the door, feeling Jamie flinch at the slur he whispers to him gently under his breath, “Ignore him, his threats are hollow. He has no power over you.” 

Jamie’s eyes are glossed and distant, his brows furrowed and pinched with worry lines evident in his forehead. He doesn’t say anything in response, but he does stay shuffling close to Asra as they close Ksasthra’s door behind him and head down the street together. 

They’re dead silent as they walk, Jamie doesn’t speak and Asra has nothing to say except to offer as much physical assurance of his presence of possible. Night is attempting to fall on Vesuvia, dusk clouds the skies in deep blues and violets like the dark colors Jamie so likes to wear. Street lamps are starting to be lit, especially as they head upwards towards Asra’s shop in the top parts of the Vesuvian districts, casting their shadows like long cloaks against the cobblestones, haloing them in golds of candlelight. Jamie continues to say nothing even when they return to the shop and Asra guides him upstairs. He says nothing as he lets Asra take his sack of belongings and watches him put it in his bedroom, merely standing like a mannequin until Asra beckons him into a seat. 

It’s only several minutes after Asra put a cup of tea in his hand and a blanket around his shoulders that he suddenly starts to speak with abrupt urgency. “I-I’m so  _ so  _ sorry, Asra.” 

Asra blinks at him in surprise, his chair that he pulled up to sit next to him shifting with him as he rests his hand on his shoulder, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry fo-”

“No, I do. I do, I have plenty to be sorry for.” Jamie declares, setting his tea down with rigor as he whirls towards Asra with a sudden vengeance, like his silence has been pent up and is about to be released in the fury of a tempest, “I shouldn’t have run away from you like that. I shouldn’t have been keeping what’s been going on hidden from you, and I definitely shouldn’t have gotten you involved. I shouldn’t have brought you into this mess when you don’t deserve to be treated with such-” 

Asra smoothes his hand over Jamie’s hair again, shushing him softly as Jamie suddenly hiccups and trails off. After a moment Asra speaks gently, as meaningfully as he can manage, “None of that is your fault, Jamie. I care about you, of course I’m going to be there for you when you need help. You shouldn’t apologize for any of that.” Jamie opens his mouth again to argue, his eyes full of that sudden fire that fills Asra with a small amount of joy because of how recognizable it is but he pushes that away so he can settle a finger over Jamie’s lips, silencing him as he repeats himself with full meaning behind his words, “It’s not your fault, Jamie.” 

The sudden fire of argument dims and then dies within Jamie as he looks at Asra, slowly the magician lets his fingertip fall away from the other’s face as what he said settles over his shoulders just like Faust, who still has taken residence around him with her smooth head pressed against his neck. Looking into his eyes, Asra watches as something within him cracks, fractures, and then breaks completely. Tears begin to well and he begins to shake again and this time as the scales begin to tip, Jamie seems to let them. He hangs his head and covers his face in his hands as he cries, after a moment he leans his forehead into Asra’s collarbone and makes to rest there. Asra immediately pulls him closer, while his heart aches to feel the others pain another part of him feels an incredible sense of honor that Jamie is allowing himself to be vulnerable. With  _ Asra.  _

When Asra’s hands cart through his hair Jamie’s arms come to life and latch onto him, first his arms and then sliding towards the back of his tunic and hanging onto him from there, desperately with bracketed fingers as if Asra is water and he just traveled a desert. Faust slithers to encircle them both, her head shifts to lay in Asra’s white curls as he hears her thoughts echo through his,  _ “Sad friend…”  _

They stay like this for a long time, Jamie sniffling and burrowing his face into Asra’s tunic and his neck, until finally he seems to settle, the pent up emotion expended. Though Asra is a little incredulous, because even while having a breakdown Jamie is reserved, his sobs are all but silent in the night. Darkness is not yet their companion thanks to the few candles Asra managed to light when they arrived, it casts his ivory features in long shadows and makes his eyes burn like fire themselves as they glisten with leftover tears that cling to his dark eyelashes. 

After a while Jamie raises his head and wipes his eyes on his sleeves, his hands slide to Asra’s and with a pulsing squeeze before he shifts to make sure Faust doesn’t fall as he adjusts her to return to her magician’s shoulders. Asra examines him closely as he does so, his hands persisting to hover over his thighs and shoulders. Once she’s secure Jamie gives him a glimmering smile, while meek in his state it nonetheless sends lightning into Asra’s bloodstream as he whispers, “Thank you… for coming after me.” 

Asra smiles at him warmly, with a gentle kiss on his knuckles that he can’t help in the intimacy of the moment he replies softly, “I’ll always come after you.”

Jamie blushes a little at this, even in the low light the scarlet adorning his face is like the finest ornament decorating his features. All Asra sees when he looks at Jamie is fathomless, timeless beauty both within and without his person and a deep well of kindness that he wants to stay as close to for as long as he can manage.

Today is a dark day… but every stormcloud has a silver lining, and Asra’s lies in the gilded glory held at bay within Jamie’s eyes, barred only by the hypnotizing slant of his lips. It lies in the realization of the totality of that attraction and the power Jamie has over him. Power that Asra doubts Jamie knows he has, but Asra can’t find himself to be bothered by it. Jamie doesn’t have to return how Asra feels for him to feel the shock of heat and energy and adrenaline that comes from it. It’s what he has kind of always known, but didn’t quite fathom until he began to realize the potential words; knowing the darkness that lingered beneath the surface of his light skin, seeing how it never stopped Jamie from expelling warmth like fire in a snowy field, melting the cold hurt of the world around him even as it tried to rain on him… And still he burned on. And Asra is in love with that fire. Asra… 

“Even if it takes time at first… even if I don’t realize it. I think I will always find myself coming back to you, dear Jamie.”  _ Because it’s you.  _

_ It’s always been you.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta love ending on that sickeningly sweet internal recognition note.   
> I can safely say now that after 1 more thing in the beginning of the next chapter we are (almost) out of the angst swamp and emerging into the wonderful world of fluff and softness! Hang in there y'all the light is at the end of the tunnel!


	7. The High Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie doesn't have the words that begin to truly express the amount of gratitude in his heart that he harbors for Asra. Unendingly patient, he opened his home to Jamie at his own accord, why Jamie cannot decipher beyond that's simply the kind of person Asra is. He was willing to sacrifice so much in order to get him out of Ksasthra’s home that Jamie is unsure he will ever be able to fully repay him for it. Especially since he found him when he did… at the worst time he could’ve seen Jamie. At his lowest… his weakest.   
> Jamie hates feeling weak. He hates being perceived as such worst of all, but last night wasn’t like that. It didn’t feel like Jamie was being pitied for weakness, or being rescued by a savior. It felt like Asra was sent to him by some higher power as reinforcements to aid him in aiding himself. If nothing else, the whole situation was an almost literal kick in the pants to force Jamie to do what I should’ve done far sooner… ask for help.   
> Which, for Jamie's official personal record, he has to say… sucks.  
> \---  
> **Warning: flashbacks to trauma and triggers thereof**

_ Thin, towering pines, daggered leaves digging into the soles of my feet as I leap over a set of gnarled tree roots. Darkness cut into strips by sharp white moonlight turns the rough bark into the keys of a pipe organ, it’s hard to see through the peeling shadow. I run, the slapping of bare feet on the pine needled earth, my own rapid breath making my ears rattle like chains…  _

_ I hear it again, suddenly ringing out in the black forest like a scream; the cracking of a whip, the terrifying gush of wind that happens when it’s right next to your ear. I wince and nearly fall in my mad rush to escape but by the miracle of a sticky conifer I manage to force myself back on the path away, away, as far away as I can. I see the silvery outline through the black trees, the end is close, so close, I just have to get there and then I’ll be safe- _

_ Suddenly there’s a bare break in the trees, a figure stands in the middle directly in my path. I see nothing but black eyes and the shadow of a dark curling whip in their left hand. I slam my heels into the earth to run in the other direction but instead the roots in the ground, now barbed with sharp thorns, lash upwards and wrap around my ankles, snatching my wrists and dragging me to my knees. I pull against them as hard as I can, terror drilling into my veins through the barbed thorns on its edges but even as I rip upwards to try and escape, the thorns dig into my flesh. I can’t seem to break free, it only makes my blood spill and my limbs scream.  _

_ A hand seizes my jawline and forces me to look up, but I snap my eyes shut before I can look into her eyes. A thumb drags along the bone and down my exposed throat, I cringe at the feeling but I refuse to open my eyes, I  _ **_can’t_ ** _ open my eyes. I can’t. I can’t-  _

_ A shadow passing over bars of iron. Leather licking my skin. A whisper in the dark. “You wouldn’t run away from little old me, would you?” _

_ Crack. _

I start upright with a gasp, my hands rip from the pillows beside me like they were just released from invisible hands and seize my forearms, digging my nails into my skin in relief when I feel nothing slick or heated clinging to my fingertips. No blood, no thorns… just me, and this wall of pillows I put between my side of the bed and Asra’s. I settle my heated palms on said pillow barrier as my heartbeat begins to settle back to normal, though it does take some effort as the pulsing, ghost-like pain between my shoulderblades takes some time to subside.

As darkness fell the night prior, Asra asked about my comfort levels sleeping in the same bed as him, and after some discussion he helped me construct a physical barrier of pillows down the center. One side, closest to the beaded curtain, is for Asra, it’s the side he insists he sleeps on most even before I came; the other side, closest to the window, is for me. I couldn’t really tell him why I wanted the division, but fortunately he didn’t ask. I guess it was just so… strange to think about sharing a sleeping area with another person, it’s not something I’ve ever done before. And after the turmoil of the past day - hell, the past few weeks - I think needed that space. And Asra gave it to me. With a familiar, wide smile that showed the familiar hollow of the dimples in his familiar cheeks.

I don’t think words will every begin to truly express the amount of gratitude in my heart I harbor for Asra. Unendingly patient, shockingly kind, he opened his home to me even after all that utter garbage I put him through. He was willing to sacrifice so much in order to get me out of Ksasthra’s home that I’m unsure I’ll ever be able to fully repay him for it. I’m not sure how exactly it happened… admittedly after I fled the shop everything was kind of a blur of me desperately trying to bury my emotions and not panic… but at some point he had went looking for me. And found me he did… but at the worst time he could’ve seen me. At my lowest… my weakest. 

I hate feeling weak. I hate being perceived as such worst of all, but… I don’t know. Last night wasn’t like that. It didn’t feel like I was being pitied for my weakness, or being rescued by a savior. It felt like Asra was sent to me by some higher power as reinforcements to aid me in aiding myself. If nothing else, the whole situation was an almost literal kick in the pants to force me to do what I should’ve done far sooner… ask for help. 

Which, for my official personal record, I have to say… sucks.

I glance over to the other side of the bed. It’s empty now, though on a closer look I spot Faust buried beneath the blankets right where Asra’s chest would’ve been, coiled in contentment with her face tucked beneath her body, probably asleep, or at least resting. Now that I’m mentally present after calming myself down from my nightmare, the sound of shuffling movement and the soft sizzles and pops of a fire reaches me, and as I shift out and let my feet drift to the wooden floor I see Asra’s form through the beaded strings hanging over the doorway to the bedroom. He’s doing something in the kitchen that wafts the delicious scent of frying eggs through the air and falling just short of my tongue. It’s absolutely divine to my stomach’s mind, which groans painfully in sudden, sharp wanting. 

I slowly rise, as silent as a shadow I go into my sack of worldly belongings to pull on a large shawl that covers my bare shoulders in the sleeveless, thin pajama shirt I wear to sleep. It may have been rather cold last night, but I naturally generate a lot of heat, so while I was buried beneath the blankets I was comfortable. Though, now outside of them, it’s a little chilly. But it’s necessary for me, hence why pajamas have to be a little more… revealing. Nothing starts the day off on the wrong foot for me like waking up sweaty. 

And it’s not that the clothes I wear now are particularly scandalous, especially by Vesuvian standards - Asra regularly wears clothing that’s far more revealing than what I’m wearing now, but the difference is he looks  _ good  _ in his clothes - but it’s not something I’m used to being seen in. I don't think I would have even changed into them at all if Asra hadn’t gone downstairs to get water, letting me change and get under the covers before he returned. I know it’s silly, but I don’t want to… alarm him, or something. Not while I’m so heavily reliant upon him, now, with my new set of… circumstances.

Once I have the added layer around my shoulders I quietly pad out of the bedroom, the beads falling back into place with soft clinks of glass behind me. 

At the sound, Asra turns around with a pan at hand and I find my feet stalling; his hair is in an adorable ruffle that’s wilder than usual, curled in thick, iridescent rivulets that frame his bronze cheekbones, shined like well-cared-for organ pipes. “Oh, you’re awake!” He greets me with that smile. He sets down the pan he was holding on what I realize now is his stove before he comes over to me and wraps an arm around my waist in a loose hug, “How’d you sleep?” 

I shrug, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palm as I lean into his touch slightly before pulling away, “No ah… no differently than usual. How long have you been up?”

“Not too long. Was just making us some breakfast so we could start the day off on a positive note.” Asra hovers a little close to me for a moment - I can feel the heat of his breath on the bare bit of skin between the hem of my shawl and the sleeve of my shirt - until he slowly pulls away, his hand the last thing to leave the curve of my waist as he returns to the stove. “How do you like your eggs?” 

I think about it for a moment before I move to sit down in a seat at the small table behind Asra, crossing my legs beneath me as I reply offhandedly, “I’ll take them whatever way you make them. I’m not picky.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at him with slight bemusement before he continues with his egg making. With a sudden burst of nostalgia I burst out into soft giggles as I murmur with my thoughts in the clouds, “You know I used to suck them raw out of the shell as a kid. I didn’t even know you were supposed to cook them until Master Garmel took me in when I was around fourteen.” Asra immediately turns about to look over his shoulder at me with a look of wide eyed concern and horror, his starlight brows knit together in a constellation called  _ what the hell.  _ I snicker at the sight and as I wave a finger at Asra, “I know, Muriel made that exact same face at me when I told him that.” 

Asra covers a hand over his mouth as an amused chuckle begins to bubble forth, for a moment the room is filled with nothing but our muffled sounds of laughter. After we settle, he uses a flat, wooden spoon to flip over the eggs in the pan as he speaks with a mischievous look thrown over his shoulder at me, “That’s a lot coming from Muriel. He likes to put ice in his cereal.” 

I blink at him stupidly for a long moment before I curl my nose, “Are you serious right now?” 

Asra smiles with the same warmth as the morning sunlight streaming onto the wooden floor beneath my feet as he grabs a plate from beside him and slides two eggs onto it. He sets the plate down in front of me, when I look at it I see it also has a collection of fruits on the side in accompaniment of the eggs, grapes and raspberries and blueberries like splashes of color on a canvas. “Is that enough for you? I can make some more if you want, or something else if you’d prefer.” Asra asks politely, his hand resting on the back of my chair as he seems to inspect my profile. 

I feel a burn in my cheeks from the attention and quickly shake my head, “No no, this is fantastic. Thank you so much, Asra.” I pat his arm behind me to enunciate on the seriousness and meaningfulness of my words before I dig into the food.

He smiles at me sheepishly, his ears are a dark crimson for some strange reason as he quickly squeezes my shoulder and returns to the stove. He mutters under his breath about almost burning the two remaining eggs, apparently his own as he puts them on a second plate and joins me at the table. 

That’s when the silence seems to loom and drag on the forefront of my thoughts. The circumstances that brought me here, the immediate issues that Asra has helped me solve… the more, long term problems that now present themselves in their stead. 

I can’t go back to Ksasthra’s. I know this now. Even though I was willing to put up with a lot in order to live there, after yesterday, it’s simply not in the question anymore. That, and I know in my heart that my job at the theatre is most certainly gone as well. He wouldn’t let such an affront pass without punishment, and now, without me living with him, the only thing he can do it take away the income he provides. Now, all I have is my job here at the shop, the sack of stuff and coin I had managed to grab from Ksasthra’s last night, and the generously loaned half of Asra’s bed. 

First things first is to make sure that Asra knows that I don’t intend on taking advantage of his kindness any longer than necessary. “I have about 500 saved up.” I begin, pulling the soft lilac hues of Asra’s gaze to mine as I cautiously continue while we eat, “I was checking out places to live over in the hinges of the Shopping District about a week ago. Before… well, this all happened… I would’ve needed about another month to save up for it, so now… It’s going to take a little longer. I’m certain that I’ve all but forfeited by job at the theatre, so…” I peer at Asra pleadingly, chewing on my bottom lip in worry as I do so, “I know it’s not ideal, but I’d be incredibly grateful if you let me stay with you in the meantime. Just until I have enough to get someplace of my own. I…” I pause, sudden embarrassment of my vulnerability making my cheeks flush, “I haven’t got anywhere else to go…” 

Before I get a chance to say anything else Asra immediately nods, reaching out to me across the table, seizing my hand, and holding it tightly. “Jamie, you are welcome to stay here for as long as you need and twice as long after.” His eyes grow a little more distant in that moment, they slide to the floor beside us as his voice grows softer, far away and in another time, “I was complicit in what was happening between you and Ksasthra. I should’ve known long before I did… I wasn’t paying you the proper attention you needed. I’m sorry.” I open my mouth to interrupt him, to sate his worries - I didn’t  _ want _ for him to know what was going on, how was he supposed to know? - but just as I’m about to he presses a finger to my lips to silence me. “But I want to be here for you, now. In any way I can.”

I can feel the seed of embarrassment burrow in my throat and bloom outwards and upwards in my face as he lets his hand drop into his lap. I’m unsure what to say, so I merely mutter softly on impulse, “You’re too kind to me.” After a moment I release a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and hang my head like an ornament, speaking authentically and from a place partially obscured, “I’m sorry I never said anything to you about what was going on. I just… I didn’t want to worry you, or make you think that I couldn’t take care of myself. It’s stupid on reflection, I know that now. I’m sorry that it got to the place that it did without me ever reaching out to you for help.” I bite my lip and rub my forearm awkwardly under the table as Asra looks on with that same, distant light in his eyes, “I should have far before it arrived.” 

To my surprise, Asra smiles at me. Relieved and fresh like morning dew on crisp grass. He reaches under the table and rests his hand gently over mine in my lap and murmurs with a serious gleam in his lavender eyes, “I’m just happy that you’re out of there, now.” There’s some silence for a time as I give him a look of appreciation and finish up my breakfast, though just after I clean my plate Asra’s eyes, which haven’t left my form since I first spoke, pursue mine and draw me into his astral pull, “So what are you going to do about Ksasthra?” 

I look at him with a slightly incredulous look before I shrug, “What is there to do? I’m out of his hair now, I figure that’s the end of it.” 

“Well, I normally wouldn’t suggest this, but…” Asra sets down the fork he was eating with and laces his fingers on the table as he speaks with a dangerous drift in his intimate voice, “You could press legal charges against him. Vesuvia doesn’t have much of a judicial system, but with the changes the Countess started making there’s enough that you could probably get him sent to prison for…” He trails off, a sudden flare of starlight pain reflecting in his pupils as his shoulders seem to visibly tense at wherever his thoughts just went. 

I furrow my eyebrows, and for a long moment I consider it. In the north, the concept of prison isn’t a novelty, though I’ve never heard of such a thing in my time in Vesuvia… though granted I don’t necessarily involve myself with people who tend to worry about it. I’d been inside of one once, just before I met Master Garmel. A guard dragged me through as a scare tactic to get me to stop stealing, as that was the third or fourth time he’d caught me, but I ended up just skipping town and trying my luck elsewhere instead. It didn’t leave too much of an impression on my character but I remember it well; thinking about Ksasthra in the dark stone walls and the overhanging torchlights that seemed to make the cages nothing but ice boxes, I answer with a slight shake of my head. “... I don’t care for vengeance. I just want for it to be over and forgotten so I can go on with my life.”

Asra blinks at me in surprise, visibly shocked by my words. “... Really? Even putting aside what he has done to you recently, even after all that he’s done, you don’t want him to face any consequences? All this time restricting your movement, working you to the bone… Then actively abusing you.” Asra reaches out to me again and glides his fingertips along my wrists, I feel him trace the bone and sinew gently, as if his touch alone might accidentally make me shatter as he continues, “I wouldn’t see holding Ksasthra accountable for his behavior as an act of vengeance on your part, Jamie. I would see that as justice.” 

As much as I appreciate the sweetness of his touch, I pull away from it. It’s too distracting and it’s filling me with a weird pull in my stomach that I don’t want to feel right now. Asra respectfully returns his hands to my lap once I do, I can see the apologetic light in his eyes when I meet his gaze and I’m sure to return it with a look of understanding before I continue, “I don’t want to inflict harm on anyone… regardless of what they’ve done to me. I can take care of myself, and without him controlling where I live or work he has no sway over me anymore… I just want to stop thinking about.” Asra’s gaze drifts slightly away, preoccupied thoughts drifting like a breeze behind them as I add, “Besides… Without those things, who am I to him anymore? I’m sure that last night was the last that we’ll see of him.”

Asra fingers his empty plate for a moment before he sighs, nodding slightly as he stands up from the table, “You’re probably right.” He takes my empty plate from in front of me and moves them next to the empty water bucket where we wash dishes by the stove. Asra holds out his hands and I can feel the flare of his magical aura as he wills water to manifest within the bucket, and soon the splashing of water against the dirty dishes choruses in the room as he gets started on cleaning them. He’d showed me the spell a while ago and tried to help me cast it, but it was incredibly difficult to imagine just… pulling water out of thin air like that, which is essentially what he does. I’m eager to learn it someday, and I figure now that I’m living with Asra for the foreseeable future I’ll have plenty of opportunities to try. 

_ Living with Asra for the foreseeable future… I like that. A lot, actually. I think I might get used to that idea.  _

I move to stand next to him as he finishes washing. I dry them off with a towel resting next to the bin, trying to help him a little, since he had made me breakfast. He notices this and offers me a shy smile before he looks back to the plates, a distant look in his eyes that betray his inner thoughts still continue to cling to Ksasthra like frost on pine needles. I wish I could abate them somehow, but I know that based on my past behavior there can’t be anything I could say that would sate his worries, so I decide to stay silent instead, offering him smiles when his gaze happens to cross mine.

I finish drying the now-clean pan he hands off to me right as he speaks with a pensive frown and a faraway gleam in his lavender eyes. “I want you to have all the joy in the world, Jamie. You know that, right?” 

Immediately I nod and flash him a smile, bumping my shoulder against his in a teasingly affectionate manner. “I do. I don’t know what I’d do without a friend like you in my life, Asra. Thank you.” 

Asra flushes a deep red at this, looking off to the side with a soft cough but otherwise doesn’t respond. Together we put away the plates before he turns to me again, apparently having changed mental directions, “Well, I need to go to the market to get some extra food supplies… would you like to come with me? I could use an extra hand.” 

I nod with enthusiasm, pointing towards Asra’s bedroom with my thumb over my shoulder, “Sure, just let me get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

Politely Asra nods before he takes his leave, peering into his bedroom only briefly to collect Faust as she emerges from the blankets, afterwards heading downstairs to the shop. 

It takes me a few minutes to rummage through my bag and find some of my clothes; I’ve only got enough now for a week before they need washing, and they’re all pretty worn out with age. Problem is that I have been saving as much money as I can for a place to stay, which meant no money for clothes until after I was out of Ksasthra’s house. Now, who knows how long it will be before I can buy myself new things if I keep saving the way that I need to? I already had to buy new boots simply out of necessity when the old ones I’d brought from the north could not be repaired anymore. I don’t want to be in Asra’s hair for longer than necessary, so that means saving up as much as I can… and delaying purchases of new clothes until after he has the second half of his bed back. 

Just as I’m sitting on the edge of Asra’s bed to pull on my shoes, I hear the front bell on the doorway ring and loud series of metal boots hurriedly marching into the shop. An unfamiliar voice suddenly sounds, even from upstairs I can hear their words clearly, “Oh good, he’s already here.” 

The dragging wooden scrapes of something heavy being moved almost drowns out his confused and slightly appalled response, “Good morning Keita- Hey, watch out for that- Can I  _ help you?” _

I blink in surprise and grab my satchel to go downstairs only to fail to remember that Ksasthra ripped the strap off of it; everything inside the bag spills to the floor, all the coin I’d haphazardly stuffed into it last night clattering like broken glass. I hear Asra downstairs make a noise of indignation and say something about the origin of a trinket as I swear softly and slide the coins back inside my satchel as fast as I can manage, the scuffling and the movement of people on the lower floor at a constant, like they’re dancing in circles while wearing metal tap shoes. The unfamiliar voice from before continues over the clamor below, “I’ll only ask you this once, magician. Where is he?” 

The sound of heavy metal footsteps start coming up the stairwell as I decide to abandon my satchel in favor of seeing what the hell is going on. Just as I move to go down the steps myself I run face to face with one of the city guards, a feminine presenting person behind metal plated armor bearing the insignia of the city. She starts when she sees me and speaks with surprising softness, at least in comparison to the other voice that’s coming from downstairs, “Oh I- Hello! Are you… are you Jamie?” 

“Wha… yes, I’m Jamie, what’s going on? Who are you, how do you know my-” I start to ask with confusion but before I can even get half of my sentence out the woman shouts over her shoulder and downstairs,  _ “I found him!”  _

I blink at her in confusion as the sounds of movement downstairs stop. Dead silence falls, followed but what I swear to be the rattling of chains but before I can properly listen a hand wraps around my shoulders as the guardswoman guides me down the stairs, she speaks to me with a soft, tender voice, “Don’t worry, we’re here to help you. You’re safe now.” 

_ … What? _

When I make it to the bottom floor I get a glimpse of what was actually going on for the first time. The shop is in disarray, items that were on counters or shelves look to have been tossed to the floor, the shelves behind the counter have been moved out to expose the wall behind it and the curtain covering the backroom has been torn down to the floor. Asra is standing by the counter, looking very agitated and confused while being flanked by two other guards with another in front of him. This guard is different in that he has a crimson armband tied around his biceps, probably some sort of badge of office. But my vision tunnels when I notice the iron cuffs around Asra’s wrists, apparently just clasped there by the red marked guard in question.

They all look to me as I emerge and I cow at the intensity of their eyes, I feel like a treasure finally unearthed from a tomb, but it pales before the sudden turmoil in my soul. I look to Asra - frankly he’s the only one here I’m worried about - and interrogate his features as I speak rapidly, “Asra, what’s going on?” 

The guardswoman who had pulled me down starts to gently guide me out of the shop before anything can be said in response, like she doesn’t want me here to see this happen, so immediately I wrench myself from her grasp and give her a sharp look, “Get your hands off! What are you arresting me for? I haven’t done anything wrong!”

The guard immediately holds out her hands towards me in a calming gesture, one I recognize for soothing wild animals, “Yes, Jamie, I know you haven’t! You’ve done nothing wrong at all, we aren’t here to arrest you.” 

“Not you, no.” I turn around and make eye contact with the man in the red armband and truly see him for the first time, elderly, grizzled with and rough like sandpaper and skin like bark. His eyes are a dark gray in the morning light from the open front door as he turns to Asra’s completely still form before him, “Was he worth the charge of abduction, magician?” 

Asra’s gaze locks on mine and we blink at one another once, twice, before what he’s saying truly hits us both. My jaw drops and I blink in absolute confusion,  _ “Abduction? _ Like… As in  _ kidnapping?” _

Asra’s brows furrows as he speaks meaningfully and with purpose, “I’m being charged with abducting… Jamie? Who would say such a thing?” 

I know the answer before the guard could even have a chance to open his mouth, so I immediately launch into the offensive. “But Guardsman, I’m not being held here against my will! Asra rescued me, he can’t be punished for that!”

The woman behind me rests a hand on my shoulder and initially my instinct is to smack her away from me but when I look into her eyes I hesitate because of the sheer lack of malice I see, like floating baubles in her lime-colored eyes. “The magician isn’t your friend, Jamie.” She states with a serious tone, yet also as if to a misbehaving child. When I shake my head vigorously she pinches her lips as her voice drops an octave, “We were warned already that you would resist. Don’t you know that he’s bewitched you?”

I blink once, twice, three times. “He’s fucking  _ what  _ now?” 

“It’s time to end this.” The guard interrupts with his eyes on the guardswoman, before he flickers to me, “We were warned ahead of time about your predicament. I apologize for your hardship, but since you are without your faculties I ask that you remain out of the way.” Before I get a chance to say anything, like  _ what the fresh fuck are you talking about, _ he continues with a hard look towards a shell-shocked Asra, “You are facing a long time in prison, Asra. End your enchantment on the boy, and I’ll try to make sure your sentence can be… cushioned by your cooperation.” 

Utter rage swarms my being like dust in an attic as I step towards the guard, “I  _ haven’t  _ been  _ fucking enchanted  _ to do  _ anything  _ you absolute halfwitted basketcase-” 

“Jamie’s speaking the truth.” Asra soothes, slightly settling the bristle of my defensive stance but only a little as he draws the guards attention back to himself; he is perfectly still like moonlight cast upon still waters. “I haven’t cast any spell on him. I’d certainly never cast one that would change his behavior.”

The head guard waves a hand, a set in his brow like he’s developing a headache, “Then we’ll see how you fair against a judge. I’m required to inform you that with the recent changes to the city’s judiciary, the accused will have an opportunity to dispute the charges and face the accuser… if you so wish. Or instead you could just serve your sentence. How long depends on the judge you get assigned, and whether you are… compliant.” 

I’ve never felt such a deep fire burning in my chest staring at the horribly familiar iron chains around Asra’s wrists. “This is absolutely  _ outrageous!” _ I snap, throwing my hands in the air as I move to storm the guard in question but the one who gathered me from upstairs holds me back at the last second, barring her arm in front of me. I glare at it, then at her, but just as I’m about to snarl something biting I see the tender concern in her eyes and I feel a moment’s calm. I have to take a settling breath to avoid doing something unseemly… or risk making Asra’s situation any worse. As much as I want to charge in and break those chains off of him, they are symptomatic of a larger problem. That problem is what needs to be addressed. “Surely there must be something you can do?” I plead with the elder guard, who seems to be in charge, “He’s been falsely accused!” 

Asra gives me a warm look that’s also consoling, it tastes like honey overtop of the burning peppers on my tongue as the guard sighs and turns back towards me, “That  _ is  _ what I can do.” He gives me a more sympathetic look that makes me want to claw out his eyes with my bare hands as he speaks in a softer, gruffer voice, “I’m truly sorry for this, but I was ordered to bring him in regardless of your complaints because of this enchantment. If he refuses to lift the magic, then there is already a neighboring magician from a city away who is en route to do it for him.” I start to fume, I swear my hands are about to curl into claws, I want so badly to commit some sort of violence but I’m quelled as the guard continues with a brisk movement of his hands, “Listen, the best I can do is put in a word for you so that you can have your case reviewed by a judge of your choice. Otherwise, it’s really out of my hands.” 

I huff, I’m about to wave him off and say a lot of truly rude and ungodly things in response like  _ fat lot that helps thanks for fucking nothing  _ when Asra suddenly takes a short gasp of breath. I look up and even though the sight of the irons around his wrists makes me start to shake in fury the sudden light in his eyes pulls at my attention instead. “The Countess Nadia.” Asra suddenly declares while looking at me, and when the guard turns to look at him with a stunned look of confusion he continues with a surprisingly calm tone, “She’s the civil leader of the city. That means she can oversee civil cases such as these. She also is familiar with magic and will know of what this supposed enchantment is you speak of.” 

The guard furrows his eyebrows at this and grumbles in a gruff tone under his breath, “I mean, I suppose that could be arranged… Kind of peculiar and high reaching…” 

I look at Asra with equal confusion, when his eyes land on me I feel the burning rage within my throat seeming to simmer and cool as even from over here I can feel his magic wash over me like a soft splash of water on a hot day, settling me, shocking me back into quiet. “The Countess and I have had a few interactions in the past. She’s logical, reasonable. She’ll understand that this is all a misunderstanding, I know it.” 

It almost sounds like Asra believes it. Believes in her, this Countess. I want to believe him as well, I really do… but I have my doubts. People with power, regardless of what kind, never tend to be reasonable in a way that matters to people without it. I don’t want to risk anything here, not with what’s at stake. But if Asra thinks she’s the one to oversee this… then I’ll trust him. I don’t trust her… but I trust him.

“Then it shall be done. But until such time as you can make you court appearance, you will remain in the cells beneath the palace for now.” The man gestures to the chains around Asra’s wrists and a sudden leap strangling fear writhes in my throat as he starts to lead Asra out of the shop. He follows willingly, though when he passes me his gaze lingers on me permanently until the wooden wall of the building physically divides us, and the magic he had enveloped me with to calm and soothe me evaporates. 

And the fear melts into rage and the rage melts into something close to absolute hysteria as I peel after them. “Asra!” I cry out as I race out of the shop only to be stopped by that same green eyed guard from earlier. She holds out a hand towards me and then looks around before she gestures after the other three guards and Asra with her chin, “... You really shouldn’t follow him. Maybe time apart will make this enchantment lose its hold?”

I can’t help but snarl at her without a second thought of being kind or patient, “For the last time, I’m  _ not enchanted!  _ Asra is my  _ friend, _ he got me out of a bad situation, and I want to see where they’re taking him!” She gapes at me for a moment with wide eyes, as if she had just seen a ghost, but I don’t wait around long enough for her to argue with me. Instead I turn and I follow the receding form of the guards flanking Asra towards the top tier of the city. 

I hear clanking footsteps scurry after me after a moment, and when I look over I see that same guard following me. I’m about to snap at her and tell her to leave me alone but before I do she stammers, “W-wait! I didn’t know that you were a magician!” 

I blink at her stupidly and immediately that gut instinct, that chorus of fear rings through my mind of  _ how the hell did you know that?  _ “... Why’s it matter?” I murmur defensively, already scanning the side streets around me for a possible exit strategy.

She gestures towards my face idly, like I’m wearing a mask, “I thought magicians couldn’t bewitch other magicians!”

When her words fully wash over me, my anger abates and simmers to a low boil instead as the doorway of opportunity presents itself. I’ve never heard any such magic as “enchanting” or “bewitching” someone, and though it’s a popular folk tale, Asra has never hinted at its verity. I’ve also never heard of this claim that it doesn’t affect other magicians, but in this moment I’m not going to turn away this advantage. “Yes, precisely!” I snap, quickly adding this reasoning to my arsenal, “So he can’t have enchanted me like you so said! Which is  _ why  _ I keep  _ saying  _ he’s been  _ falsely accused.”  _

“... Oh.” The guard mutters sheepishly, looking off to the side before waving a finger towards where we, and the guards with Asra ahead of us, are heading. “Well, I’m sure once the Countess or whatever judge hears about this, they’ll be sure to set things to rights!”

“... Right.” I murmur. 

The guard continues to walk with me to the palace, no longer actively trying to stop me, but she isn’t leaving me be. I don’t feel much like talking - even though my anger has simmered down a bit now that the injustice has at least been recognized - but I have several questions, and this guardswoman seems willing to talk to me. She’s stopped trying to stop me from going so I assume that means she’s on my side now… I ought to seize this advantage and get some information. “How long do you think he’ll be in there?” I ask, pointing to Asra’s fluffy white hair as I stride to try and catch up to him, though he’s now several blocks ahead of me. 

She bites her lip pensively before she shakes her head, “Sometimes it can be as quick as a few hours… can sometimes be a few days. Weeks. Depends on the judge overseeing the case. So for your uh…?” She glances at Asra and then at me with a raised eyebrow. 

“Friend.” I answer. “Best friend.” 

“... your friend will have to wait until the Countess is ready to oversee the case. If she even accepts it… she might not.” 

Horrible anxiety and fear wells up in my chest like an angry tub of centipedes as we head up to the top tier of the city where the palace is located. “Will he be fed, there…? Is it… Is it comfortable at least…?” I can’t get the image of the prisons in the north out of my head. I pray Vesuvia has something different… better. 

She nods kindly, “Yes, he’ll be fed three times a day if it comes to that, don’t worry. And it’s not… bad. There’s no luxurious four poster bed or anything, but it’s not bad. You should also be able to visit him… but only for a little while. And if the guard captain lets you.” 

That certainly doesn’t sound bad to me. It’s better than what I ever had… But Asra deserves freedom. Even if this isn’t as bad as it could be, it’s not what he deserves. “This is so unfair.” I snarl under my breath, moving to keep up to the guards and Asra moving just ahead of me. He doesn’t look at all phased or worried, he simply looks as pensive and vaguely interested as always, like he’s going to get pumpkin bread from Selasi rather than going to jail. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

The guardswoman beside me is awkwardly silent for a time, not like I expect or care for her to respond, but eventually she does with a muted undertone, like she’s telling me a secret, “So, do you know who-”

“Yes.” I snarl immediately in response, “My…  _ former _ boss and landlord, Ksasthra Njall. That’s who it was who called you in, wasn’t it?” 

She blinks at me stupidly and I get the inkling that what she was about to ask was not what I answered but I nonetheless answered something she was interested in. “I… think so. That rings a bell.”

The guard falls to silence when we finally arrive and approach the palace, though taking a sharp right at the gates outside to head towards the caverns, and prisons, beneath it, I so assume. The stones are gray and musty as we go, the sky is overcast and the sunshine feels secondary to the mist of the morning hovering around us. I failed to even notice it, too caught up in watching Asra’s chains. I’ve never laid eyes on something inanimate and hated it as much as I hate those iron links.

Eventually we come across a series of thick wooden doors that lead to stone stairwells leading downwards into darkness, ember torches light the way but seem to make the darkness that much more complete rather than illuminate it, it settles unnaturally on my soul. The guardswoman who guided me stops me just at the front as they lead Asra beyond, gesturing with her chin, “You can see him when Keita says so. They have got to get him situated in his cell first.”

At some point the guardswoman leaves the room, but I don’t notice it in the slightest as I try not to spend my time waiting fuming… though it’s hard. It’s hard because this feels like injustice, this feels wrong in every sense, but the longer I linger on these feelings the more I realize that they’re far deeper and more sinister than I initially thought. Asra is under arrest because he helped me out of Ksasthra’s house last night. He helped me, and because of that Ksasthra’s now after him to try and either defame him at best or throw him in prison at worse. He’s here because he helped me. Asra is in  _ chains  _ because of  _ me.  _

The door beyond opens, one of the two city guards in the shop and the senior with the red arm bands stride out. I stand when the one with the red armbands, I assume Keita, spots me and immediately sighs, “Oh damnit.” He pinches his brow and looks around, though now that I too search the small stone room I see nothing that might interest him. “… You wanna see Asra, I expect? No one hangs out down here for their health.” 

I nod, though I can sense he is trying to use a light humorous tone to try and make me feel better, I can’t help but feel angrier. “Talk to Enric down the hall.” He gestures offhandedly over his shoulder, moving to the side so that I may pass him.

As I head in that direction, I hear his voice again behind me as he addresses the other guard he was with, “Time to go inform the Countess of this… What a mess. Magic shit is not my shit, I tell you. I’ll stick with drunks.”

_ Good riddance.  _ I think to myself, but hold my tongue as I follow his directive. Just as I lose line of sight with this pair of people I see the guard in question standing posted at the foot of the stairwell. He looks up at me and I recognize this is one of the two in the shop who had taken Asra here, he has pale blue eyes and an apologetic pallor, like he exists in the constant state of a shrinking violet. He doesn’t say anything when I approach him but he nods over his shoulder, and together we start walking down the torchlit hall. 

On my right are rows on rows of iron cells, crosshatched cages that I startlingly recognize the structure and size of - these are not at all like the cells in northern prisons, which only had parallel iron bars from roof to floor, but I recognize them from… before. Inside there are straw stuffed beds and blankets, chamber pots, and little else, which  _ is  _ admittedly better than I was expecting. At least there are beds. 

Looking at the crossed bars, it takes all of my willpower to force the sudden feeling of leather and iron around my throat out of my mind to instead focus on the present. When I’m fully able to recognize that these are my feet on the cobblestones and this is my hair I’m worrying under my fingertips, the guard stops in front of a particular cell. I notice most of them before were empty… except for this one. When I look up I see Asra within, already standing as close to the bars as he can with his wrists on a chain linked to the far wall. 

I boil with rage when I see it, without thought I turn to the guard and snap, “Are those really necessary?” I point to the chains around Asra’s wrists. 

The guard seems to flush sheepishly as he mutters in a soft, stuttering voice, “S-sorry. It’s protocol.” 

I furrow my eyebrows and growl, “Fuck your protoco-” 

“Jamie.” Asra’s soft voice in this dampened space yanks my attention fully out of the clouds I had found myself in. Instinctually I gravitate to the bars and push my hands through them to reach out to Asra, even though I’m on this side of the bars its cold touch makes my skin crawl and itch and burn. He cannot reach me from where he is, which seems to pain him as much as it’s paining me, but as I draw my hands back to instead grasp the metal I can feel his magic encircle me like a protective blanket, warm and cool and keeping out the burning heat I keep stockpiling wood for within my chest. “It’s alright. He’s just doing his job.” He murmurs soothingly. I’ve never been so desperate to hear his voice before. Has it always been this calming? 

I frown and lean against the iron fittings, as my heart begins to ache the soft voice behind me suddenly mutters, “I could um… I could let you inside, if you want.” The guard shakily points to the door, giving me such a dewey look that I wonder at how old he must be. No older than me, for certain. “You’d just have to… you know. Not try anything funny.”

The hardened anger I’d felt absolutely melts at the offer. “Yes, please, I would love that if you could.” I regard him pleadingly, turning towards him with a flash of feverish appreciation. He smiles a little like it pains him to do so before he approaches and unlocks the cell door, opening it just enough for me to pass through. As soon as I’m inside I don’t look at the door, the straw bed inside, or the chain holding Asra taut, I rush straight for Asra and envelop him in a tight hug. 

“Oh! Hi.” Asra mutters with a surprised noise. I’m vaguely aware of the door closing behind me and the shuffling boots of the guard moving to stand a bit of a distance away for the vaguest sense of privacy that he can offer but I don’t care. All I care about is right in front of me. 

“I’m so sorry!” I cling to the soft fabric of his tunic, ignoring the cold metal around his wrists pinned to my chest I squeeze him tighter and bury my face into his shoulder, “I must have jinxed the universe when I so boldly thought that Ksasthra would leave me alone after all that! Now you’re here and in chains and you could get in serious trouble all because of me, God, Asra, I’m so so sorry-” 

_ “Jamie.” _ Asra’s hands worm between us until he cups my face in his hands, pulling me slightly up so that I can face him fully. His expression is surreal, gentle and sweet and a touch amused as he regards me, “It’s going to be okay. Even if I had known this was going to happen last night, I still would’ve come inside to get to you. You needed me. I don’t regret it, and neither should you.” 

I sniff as sudden emotion threatens to strangle me when I drift my hands up his forearms and hitch on the iron chains encasing them. It hurts me to see them, but suddenly feeling them again under my fingertips brings something else writhing inside me, something agonizing and full of burning rage. “This still shouldn’t be happening. It’s bullshit, Asra, it’s utter bullshit. I can’t believe that Ksasthra would lie to the guards in order to get you arrested… He’s turning this into such a big deal for no good reason.” I worm my fingers along the chain, feeling it, knowing it. I never thought that chains like these could exist in a worst state than clapped around my throat, but they  _ are _ worse when they are wrapped around someone else. When they’re wrapped around Asra.

Asra’s brows pinch slightly as he meets my gaze, his thumbs draw across my cheekbones and although I know him well enough by now I still can’t help but shiver at the intimate proximity we occupy, I’m but a few inches away from him. I can clearly look down into his eyes and see every layer of violet and lavender and mauve that mingle with moonlight in his eyes to make them what they are, I can easily tell the slight height advantage I have over him, barely noticeable except for when we’re standing this close. “Are you so certain it’s a lie?” Asra murmurs, his voice is no different than usual but when we’re standing so close it feels more intimate, personal and snug between us like a wall of pillows.

“What else could it be?” I huff slightly with disbelief. Usually I’d take a step back from being so close to Asra, but I realize that this is best if we don’t want the guard, standing not too far away, to overhear us. 

“That might be what he truly believes.” Asra’s voice is now a soft whisper, dropping lower and lower as his gaze flickers between me and the cell door before sealing back to mine, like a wax seal on paper. Then lower, like there’s something on my lips that’s catching his attention. 

“Then he’d be mad.” I grumble back, shaking my head and licking my lips in case they’re stained with fruit juice or something. I fix Asra with a meaningful look after I do, my hands remaining firm on top of the iron links between us, “Does what they say hold any merit at all? Is it even possible for a magician to do that? I didn’t think that bewitching someone was possible anywhere but in fairytales.” 

Asra’s hands slide down and rest on my chest just above my sternum, gently catching on the hem of my tunic around my neck and for some reason the movement makes my heart beat into my throat as he speaks in the same soft undertone, “It isn’t, especially not in the way that the guards were implying. The Countess has a basic understanding of magic, and she has trusted me in the past for arcane knowledge. She will be able to figure out the truth.”

I furrow my eyebrows in response as I look at Asra with a piercing, serious gaze, “You’re placing a lot of faith in this person.”

Asra meets my gaze with similar intensity that seems to shimmer like summer heat around us, “There’s a lot to place faith in. Do you trust me, Jamie?” 

I nod without hesitation. “Of course I do. But I don’t trust a royal stranger to get you out of this mess I put you in.” My eyes fall to his wrists, though his hands are still planted as firm as trees on my chest I can’t stop looking at the chains hanging down from them. 

Those hands, slender and soft move and touch my chin, coaxing my head up so I remeet Asra’s gaze.  _ “You  _ haven’t got anything to do with this. You had no idea this would happen.” I huff indignantly and turn my gaze away as heated waves of embarrassment climb into my face.

“Jamie, look at me.” 

I let out a short breath before relinquishing to do as he asks, wading into the pink and purple snapdragon fields in his eyes willingly and with only a few beats of hesitation. He smiles, lighting the whole cell with morning glory as he hums, “It’s going to be okay. Even if you don’t have faith in Nadia, in what’s about to happen… even in me… that’s okay. You don’t have to have faith in anyone but yourself to get through this.” 

Before I can ask him what he means by this the doorway down the hall towards where I came in suddenly opens and several metal footsteps start clanging in our direction. Asra slowly pulls slightly away from me as the guard who initially led me here suddenly approaches and opens the door, waving me to exit the cell, and although I’m about to hesitate and argue I look down the hall and spy Keita, and two new guards, marching with him towards our position. I duck out as they command but not before I give Asra a deploring look, one that I hope conveys how much I’m willing to sacrifice in order to make sure he makes it out of this without so much as a scratch. He smiles back at me with closed lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

When Keita is close, he looks to me and then to the guard who brought me here and gestures with his chin over his shoulder, “Apparently, the Countess wants to see to it that this matter resolved immediately. We are to take him and the magician to the receiving parlor on the first floor.” He points first to me, then to Asra in his cell with a commanding tenor.

The guard behind me salutes him crisply before he moves to take my arm, I quickly move out of his range and fix him with a hard glare, “Unless I’m the one under arrest, I walk alone.” 

The guard backs away at this with his arms raised up in surrender as Keita and the other guards with him retrieve Asra from within his cell. They lead him out and in front of us first, we share another long look and as he moves ahead of me and I watch his retreating form I suddenly have a thought. He had retrieved Faust when he had gone downstairs, but when I was just standing a few feet away from him I didn’t notice her anywhere in her usual spots inside his clothes. Where had she gone? 

_ Perhaps Asra is so relaxed about this because he already has a contingency plan.  _ I think to myself idly as the final guard and I follow them out of the cells. I’ve noticed in the past that Asra seems to have some sort of magical communicative connection with Faust, it’s on a level that he can give her instructions without her having to even be in the room, so it’s not out of the question that he was ten steps ahead when the guards walked through the door of the shop.  _ At least there’s her, but hopefully it won’t come to that.  _

The road to the palace is silent and full of the clinking of metal from the guarded escort, though the rings of the iron around Asra’s wrists are most pronounced over all of these sounds. It gets to the point that whenever his hands move and the iron would sing I would feel like my skin is being slowly rubbed raw between my jawline and my collarbone. I try to ignore it, instead focusing on the magnificent pearlescent, gilded gates, the meticulous gardens of hedges and flowers and bushes we pass in order to walk through the tall front doors of the palace. 

I had never had the pleasure of going inside, one usually can’t unless they’re on business with those who live within. It’s unlike any structure I’ve ever seen, even the large, grandiose buildings in the Temple District seem rather simple in the face of the ornate beauty in the architecture of the palace. White marble floors stretch out before us and down a long, elegant hallway, the guards move us through an opal archway on the right and past a series of rather normally dressed people sweeping in the center, who gawk at us as we pass. I figured such a lavish place would house equally lavish people, but those people we passed bore resemblence to every Vesuvian I’ve ever encountered, at least in regards to dress. Though, I suppose I don’t know what nobility in Vesuvia would wear, as clothing here already seems so extravagant, so perhaps I’m misinterpreting. 

A person wearing a large hat with an equally large feather sticking out of it spots us as we approach and says something so fast I don’t catch what it was as they suddenly speed off in the direction that we’re going like a startled hare, before I can even process their presence they’re long gone, disappeared behind a doorway. Keita mutters something under his breath that sounds like ‘chamber laid’ but I’m not entirely sure what that means so I figure it must be some sort of Vesuvian thing. 

I haven’t felt this out of my depth since I arrived to this city, looking at these grand halls, the towering spires along the sides, though as I walk through this massive, ornate hall I can’t help but wonder how lonely it must feel to live here. So much empty space… so few people occupying it. The shop is small, but not at all abnormally so, it feels lived in… it feels like it should be a home. This place feels like a painting, a spectacle, and while it’s an effective one, it remains nothing more. 

Finally Keita opens a double set of doors into a massive sitting room, as large as the entire shop floor. Couches and chairs and end tables with vases of flowers litter the room, plush and inviting with gilded linings stitched into the edges. Portraits and paintings aplenty line the walls depicting natural scenes of various kinds, one on the far wall shows the mountains in the north, but what draws my eye is the elegant woman reclining on one of the couches before us. 

She wears a long, silky, veridian dress with rich ruffles, gilded edges, and white highlights along her chest and down in front of her. Its cut lays her chestnut shoulders bare to the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows, the only thing to obscure them is the burgundy roots of her hair that fall in a gradient to a deep violet at the tips of her hair, which is twice as long as mine, hanging past her slim waist. There are many beautiful women in Vesuvia, I’ve yet to find one that doesn’t bear the title, but it’s easy for me to say that this woman is by far the fairest of them I’ve yet met. I’m drawn in closer by her eyes, they’re languid and dark, crimson irises seem to expect my undivided attention but not demand it, it’s the gaze of someone with power who has borne it for a while and is accustomed to its weight. 

“Countess, the Guard Captain Keita approaches with the Asra the Magician and Jamie, the uh… abductee.” I glance to the side with a narrowed glare to see that same fellow from before, the one with the weird hat, announcing us from a clean strip of paper in their hands. They take off that strange hat as they bow deeply to the woman on the couch and duck out of the room like a spirited rodent. I suppose they must be some kind of announcer, I figure since this woman - the Countess Nadia - is important enough to not have to remember all of the people she meets.

Her gaze slides first to Asra then to me, but only briefly before they return to Asra. She rises from the couch and flicks a hand in our direction, “There’s no need for these restraints, release him.” 

I can’t help but immediately feel all of my perceptions of her melt away into simple, powerful gratitude. The others guards start to move just as Keita speaks up with a surprisingly sheepish tone, “Pardon me, my lady, but are you sure that that is wise? He is a very powerful magician… he could be dangerous.” 

The Countess’s pinning gaze hovers on the red-marked captain for a moment before she responds with a honeyed voice full of grace and meaning, “That he is. So do you not think that a magician of his caliber is more than capable of slipping out of such simple bonds?” 

Keita looks at her, looks at the chains on Asra’s wrists and the slightly smug glimmer of mischief in Asra’s eyes before he has the social sense to look ashamed. “Er… I suppose not…”

“So since they are unnecessary, he may as well have his hands free.” She cocks another eyebrow, coy and almost bemused at the guard before she gestures with another small sweep of her hand in his direction to carry out her command.

This time the other guards move in without hesitation and undo his bonds, the ring of the chains resounds throughout the room as they take them off of their belts and away. They continue to linger around Asra, though in a much looser formation than before, revealing Asra between them unhindered and free. My breath rattles out in slight relief at the sight.

Asra’s eyes find mine as he rubs his wrists, he flashes me a comforting smile, like  _ I’m  _ the one that needs to be comforted, but otherwise he doesn’t say anything. I shift to stand as close to him as possible without alerting the guards, who seem to be busy tidying up the chains to notice me. 

“It seems to me that you’ve found yourself in quite a difficult situation, Asra.” The Countess’ voice draws my attention bag to hers like the pull of the tide. She stands with her hands folded in front of her, and now that the chains are gone from Asra’s arms her blood-red eyes upon him seem softer, more benevolent. It’s a relief that that is the gaze she uses with him, for her sake or mine I’m unsure. 

Asra chuckles with a surprisingly genuine amount of humor as his arms fall to his sides, “I’ve always been told I have a penchant for trouble. Isn’t that right, Keita?” He gives the grizzled, elderly man an impish smile that only makes the guard grumble under his breath about kids these days. 

While it’s a relief that the atmosphere feels as light as a feather, the reason why we are here continues to hang like those very chains that now lie useless at the guards sides on my shoulders, but before I have a chance to voice my concerns the doors we entered through swing open once more. The figure before, the one with the strange hat, suddenly prances in and with another strip of paper in their hands they loudly declare into the space, “Countess, announcing the arrival of the accusor of the case, Ksasthra Njall, the chief executive and manager of the Vesuvia community theatre!” 

My blood runs cold when the person with the obnoxious hat jumps aside and reveals Ksasthra behind him, dressed in what I know to be his best jacket - he usually wears it on opening nights - with a lone guard at his side. His onyxian gaze skims the room, hitching first on Nadia and then on Asra before they fall and settle on me like rocks at the bottom of a river. He crosses the room towards me with a hurried step, throwing his arms out wide as he releases a suddenly relieved breath, “Jamie! You’re alright!” 

On instinct I freeze, but before I can otherwise react Asra suddenly jerks forward, stunning all the guards around him and Ksasthra as he moves to stand between us, “Don’t you dare touch him.” He growls. All playfulness from before is gone, all mischief is mist, I see nothing in the darkness of the mauve in his gaze but stark malice and disgust. I’ve never seen such a light in Asra’s eyes before, and I suddenly shiver as I realize that that is the exact look I expected from him the night I met him and I changed for the first time. Now, I can’t imagine being the target for such a look… But I hope and pray to every deity in existence that I never can. 

The guards snap from their surprise and quickly pull on their weapons and point them at Asra to keep him away from Ksasthra but Asra doesn’t even blink, he merely stares at the gaping blackness in my former boss’s eyes with ill will and hostility but otherwise doesn’t make a move towards him. Ksasthra, so stunned by it, halted in his advance and instead stands stock still, his hands at his sides and his shoulders back, frilled like a threatened owl. 

The Countess speaks with a gentle but firm voice, “Lower your weapons… let us remain civil.” I look back over at her and to my surprise I find myself for the first time making direct eye contact with her. Her gaze holds power, a kind of power I’ve never encountered before, and I find myself lingering within it for a long time before she speaks again, “First I will hear from the accusor on the charges, then the defender in order to glean the entire story.” Those crimson hues return to mine and I find my breath stalling a little in my lungs, whether from anxiety or stress I cannot tell as she speaks to me in a softer manner, “Then your perspective would be most welcome as well, Jamie…?” She raises an eyebrow, asking for more. 

I have to swallow in order to find my voice. “Just Jamie.” 

Her gaze continues to linger on mine for some time before it moves, like a slow moving lantern her attention diverts and instead falls to Ksasthra standing on the other side of Asra. “Very well. What seems to be the issue here?” 

I can feel the black depths of his eyes searching for mine but I find myself unable to meet it, I keep my gaze firmly planted first on the hem of the Countess’s luxurious dress - it’s made of a higher quality material than most clothing I’ve seen - and then Asra’s boots, which shift as his weight transfers from foot to foot while the man speaks. “Of course, my lady. I would first like to extend my deepest and sincerest apologies for inconveniencing you on such a trivial matter, I know you must have far more important things to attend to than a simple case that a judge of any minor standing could easily handle.” 

The Countess is silent for a moment before she answers with a sweetened edge of poison in her voice, “On the contrary. Asra is one of the most reliable, trustworthy, and powerful magicians I’ve yet found in the city. He has performed many a favor for me in the past without accepting payment, so I find myself quite interested in any questions of his character.” I can almost feel Ksasthra’s blood pressure start to rise as she continues without a pause, “And now that the Count has returned as of the night prior, I find myself with a significant portion of my duties reduced, though that will soon change when he is no longer occupied.” There’s a distinct edge in her voice that I cannot quite glean. The Count, as I’m given to understand in the minimal knowledge I have of Vesuvian politics, is her husband, yet she speaks of him with a note of… disdain.  _ I wonder why that is.  _ I don’t get a chance to think on this for long as the Countess looks down her nose at Ksasthra and states with a voice crafted in an armory, “So don’t trouble yourself further in pressing your nose to the ground, Ksasthra.” 

I almost choke on my tongue on that and so does Asra, who makes a startled noise before he coughs, clearing his throat immediately afterward. We make eye contact in that moment and I can’t help but shiver at the sheer amount of assurance in the golden sunlight reflected across his eyes like amethysts in a pool of water. I get that certainty now; the Countess has only spoken a few times and I already have about half of the confidence that Asra’s exuding around him like water from a fountain. It feels like she is an ally, even though she has yet to divulge her true opinion. 

“Y-yes of course, my lady.” Ksasthra clears his throat as he reassembles his composure. It’s so strange to see him in a position where he is not the most powerful person in the room, he appears almost… meek. I’ve never seen such a look on him, it certainly does not suite his normal stature. “Well you see, what happened is a recurring set of problems relating to  _ him.” _ He points a finger at Asra accusingly, now that his tongue is up and running his confidence is restored and he sounds more like himself, “He has used his magic to bewitch Jamie to become some sort of thrall. You must understand, I know Jamie better than anyone, he has been my ward for a greater part of two years now-” 

I can’t help but bristle. His  _ ward?  _ Is  _ that  _ how he sees me? 

“-When I met him, Jamie never would lie to me about anything, he was as pious as a priest, but then your  _ esteemed magician  _ got a hold of him and he started acting strangely: lying about his whereabouts, sneaking out and around and most certainly up to all sorts of nefarious activities that he never would have otherwise gotten involved with if he wasn’t compelled. I only had finalized proof when this man  _ broke  _ into my home,  _ kidnapped _ Jamie, and then stole off into the night.”

My ears begin to ring. I look at Ksasthra with eyes of indignation and without hesitation or a moment’s thought I snap at him, “I’ve told you before that Asra is not a man, and he didn’t  _ kidnap _ me! I went with him at my own free will!” 

Ksasthra points a hand towards me before he turns to the Countess, who is merely standing with a stoic expression. His voice rises with confidence as he speaks to her rather than to me, “How much free will was actually involved, I wonder?” 

“More than he ever had when he was living with you.” Asra’s voice is deep and dark, barely audible but well heard by all collected in the room as he stares down the man with a certain lack of expression that leaves cold sweat on my spine. It’s the expression of a coiled snake, prepared to strike but waiting for the opportunity, for the time to defend himself properly. 

The Countess flickers her gaze between the three of us for a moment before she lands her eyes on Asra, “... And what is your perspective?” 

Asra is quiet for a moment, regarding first Ksasthra with that same cold disdain before he glances over at me, I can see his thoughts racing a mile a minute, dancing in the clouds before they drip down like rain when his gaze falls to the Countess’s. “If I may speak frankly…?”

“You may.” She answers with a nod, and an intrigued glimmer in her eyes. 

Asra’s brows furrow as he turns to look at his accusor directly. “Ksasthra is a warden, yes, but only to prisoners.” Ksasthra’s nose curls but to my surprise he doesn’t argue with him as Asra flickers to meet the Countess’s eyes, “You should know that Jamie is of age, now and two and a half years ago when he took him in, to make his own decisions, but Ksasthra has been using his position as his homeowner and his employer to control Jamie’s life like he was not. These acts of defiance he so heralds as my doing were Jamie’s simple acts of living as a free adult citizen in the city. Doing  _ nothing  _ nefarious, I might add, especially not against his will.” Asra’s eyes suddenly grow distant, a fog settles over the gentle hues as he peers over at me and I find myself unable to look away even if I wanted to as he speaks to me, as if we were alone in this grand room, “I knew that what was happening was wrong for a long time. Too long I did nothing because I feared my actions would bring punishment down upon Jamie if I were to get involved, so I stayed at arms length. Inaction is the only crime I’m guilty of.” 

My heart sinks and swims and soars with warmth and light, it takes a lot of self control to keep myself from rushing him and hugging these worries away. I try my best to convey it through my gaze -  _ you are guilty of  _ **_nothing_ ** _ , least of all inaction _ \- and I think that Asra receives the message as his eyes soften and a bare smile starts to form across his lips.

The Countess’s voice tears me out of the lavender clouds I found myself lost in. “So what did bring you to act, then? Why break in last night and take Jamie away, as Ksasthra so accuses you?” 

Asra’s gaze hardens as he looks away from me and his jaw sets, for a moment I find myself wondering the same question. “Because I too found evidence of a wrongdoing that I could not ignore.” He glances over at me, and with a gentle light in his eyes he speaks to me with a soft, gentle voice, like he’s about to ask me for a desperate favor, “Jamie… Only if you’re comfortable with it… will you show Nadia?” He holds up his hands and clasps his own unbound wrists with a meaningful look thrown at me. 

I blink at him with a confused expression for a moment before my blood suddenly runs cold when what he’s implying slams into me like the trunk of a tree. I stare at him with wide eyes, then at the guards surrounding him, then at Ksasthra. His eyes are black and menacing, I can see the dare lying within, the  _ don’t you dare  _ is more like it… he must know of, or figured out what Asra is alluding to. 

When I manage to wrest myself free from the black hold he has on me I look to the Countess, who is regarding me with a soft, rather friendly look that makes the tension in my shoulders slightly lax. She had walked a little closer to me when I wasn’t looking, she is standing next to me now and I find that although she seemed Amazonian from a distance, standing next to one another like this I see that we are actually exactly eye to eye. “Only if you are comfortable.” The Countess murmurs, holding out her cupped hands to me in a receiving gesture. Golden rings and bracelets adorn her, her hands look like works of art in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. 

I flush red in embarrassment at how long I’m hesitating. As embarrassing as this is… As much as I would like to push this away and not show anyone, especially not a stranger, the price of my weakness… this isn’t about me. It’s about getting Asra’s name cleared, and for that, I’ll suffer just about anything, including this. So, wordlessly I push back my sleeves and hold out my arms to the Countess for her to see. 

The bruises littered there aren’t nearly as bad as they were yesterday. Asra used his magic in the moment in an attempt to heal them but he didn’t get them all, some remained like unfettered violets clasped around the bone on the outside of my wrist.  _ Violets… More like weeds.  _ I think distastefully as Nadia wordlessly turns my palms over in her hands, inspecting them without change in expression. “They were worse before.” I mutter under my breath so that only she can hear, “But Asra healed a lot of them last night.” 

Ksasthra’s voice, sharp and indignant, snaps from the other side of the room before the Countess’s unchanging features can respond, “Don’t let him manipulate you, my lady! Obviously he must’ve been the one who have done it. I didn’t even know those were there! That supports my case, not his!” I see him pointing at Asra out of the corner of my red tinged gaze.

_ Talking of Asra, talking to Nadia, even after I addressed him directly… It’s like I’m not even here since Asra stepped in front of him.  _

Before, when Ksasthra would say something that bothered me, I’d swallow on my tongue. I did it because I needed the housing, I needed the job, I needed to be a peacemaker not a warmonger, and I was scared of risking everything by challenging him. Now, I have none of these things, he  _ took  _ all of those things,  _ and now  _ he’s trying to throw the greatest friend I’ve ever had in prison as punishment for… for knowing me. 

I struggled to stand up for myself before. I will  _ not _ make that mistake standing for Asra.

Something black and white and full of sharp teeth curls itself inside my chest as I whirl on Ksasthra without hesitation, ripping my arms out of the Countess’ grasp. My patience has been worn thinner and thinner to the point I now feel a hairsbreadth away from losing control, over what I’m unsure. “Why are you lying? You know  _ exactly _ why these are here,  _ you _ are the one who told me to wear long sleeves to cover them up!” 

Ksasthra sighs, like he’s being lectured to by a child, even as the tension from the others in the room seem to make the atmosphere palpable. “That’s probably just a memory he planted into your head!” When I stare at him with incomprehensible fury he furrows his thick eyebrows at me and huffs with obtuse annoyance, “I would never hurt you, boy!”

Something inside me snaps. A certain memory dug forth latches onto my mind and tears through the forefront of my thoughts, leaving my chest aching for air,  _ ‘Come on, now, boy! You wouldn’t run away from little old me, would you?’  _ “No!” I shout, my hands shaking as they clench into fists, when I blink I see shadows of black trees and white moonlight in stark lines like plowed snowdrifts behind my eyelids, “No, you  _ would  _ hurt me. You  _ have  _ hurt me, you hurt me because I would going to see Asra and you didn’t like that! Don’t you  _ dare  _ stand there and lie to my face and pretend that this is his doing!” I take a step in his direction, pointing a finger towards Asra, I don’t even pretend to notice how the guards shift nervously away from encompassing him to a looser formation around the three of us. 

The Countess attempts to reclaim the situation, holding a hand out towards me and then towards Ksasthra as she speaks with a voice full of born command, “Is that accusation true, Ksasthra? Would you punish him for going to visit Asra?”

Ksasthra’s eyes dig into me like barbed roots as he snaps back with all patience seemingly gone as well, he looks at first to the Countess with an infuriated sigh, “It was only necessary because he kept going even after I ordered him- ordered  _ you _ to stop!” That’s when his attention diverts. He points an accusing finger at Asra, who stands stoic and straight without any changes in his features, as Ksasthra shouts at me, finally addressing me for the first time, “You can’t trust people like him! He can and  _ will _ use magic to manipulate you and force you to think in a way you never would, just like you are now!” I open my mouth to shout back at him at how wrong he is but seeing this only makes Ksasthra shout louder, taking a menacing step towards me as he does so, “You know nothing about magic! You need to be  _ protected  _ from  _ witches _ like  _ him!” _

I don’t realize it’s happening until I feel the growing pains. Aching pushes, pulling me further upright, taller than I normally stand, my eyes grow sharper, my teeth feel heavier, my hands feel longer, clawed, sharper, but all I see is the growing dawn of an obsidian sun in Ksasthra’s eyes as I take several threatening steps closer, until I’m rushing him. I roar with a voice that is not mine, but it feels just like it, it’s darker, gruffer, violent, bitter, furious,  _ ravenous,  _ “The only  _ witch _ you need to be  _ protected _ from is  _ ME!”  _

Ksasthra calls out in terror and suddenly falls backwards, scrambling back and cowering with his arms over his head as spears and steel swords appear between me and Ksasthra, who has fallen to the marble floor with his hands over his head. I step back and away from the weapons with wide eyes right as the blood that was rushing to my ears fades and a voice of rainwater and nectar pulls me out of the dusky clouds,  _ “Jamie!” _

I blink and look over at Asra. His eyes are wide and his hands are outright towards me like he’s about to pull on my hands and into his arms but he remains frozen instead, staring at me with a look I’ve seen only once, the night we met. He is now entirely undefended, as all the guards in the room are now standing between me and Ksasthra with their weapons at the ready, I can see the glint of shock and fear in their eyes. 

I look down and see the black fur that had sprouted around my hands, the dark claws that my fingertips have become, and now that I see that I feel that my face is elongated into a feral snout, sharp canines jutting out of my lips, fur along my face - the guise of a wolf. I was shapeshifting without thinking, I probably would’ve gone the whole way if Asra hadn’t called out to me and pulled me out of the blackened haze I found myself in.

_ … This has only happened once before.  _

Terrified, I immediately slink back and raise my hands in front of my face, squeezing my eyes shut and willing my breath to slow, for my form to return to my own. I feel my knees hit a seat so I let myself fall into it, keeping my hands shielded in front of my face as I will myself to calm down and retain myself. Just as the last of the fur has receded, two hands settle on me, one on my arm and the other on my shoulder. I flinch on instinct but when my gaze snaps up to find the source I meet Asra’s lavender hues and the tension abates, though only slightly as my chest is still inexplicably tight. He sits down beside me in the seat, rubbing his hands along my shoulder and arm and then to my back and shoulderblades. As soon as I comprehend his presence his magic swarms over mine in a comforting manner, like he is throwing a blanket over my shoulders and settling the chaotic energies I feel just beneath my skin… Soothing, like aloe on a burn. 

I’ve never welcomed something so willingly in my life. 

“... I’d like to speak with Jamie, please.” The Countess speaks so suddenly that I jump, looking up at her to see that she’s now standing just to my right, her wine colored eyes on the guards and on Ksasthra in the middle of the room. Ksasthra scrambles to his feet, his eyes are glued wide open like that of a doll’s as he stares at me with such a look of absolute terror that it makes my gut twist painfully. Two guards escort him out - he seems to be having some trouble walking or standing upright, I cannot tell which - as Keita approaches our collected trio with his hand on his sword hilt, “Come on, then.” He says, looking at Asra beside me. 

Asra hesitates and seems reluctant, his hand on my waist tightens as he looks first at my frozen profile, then at the Countess. I find my knee pressing flush against his thigh beside me in response, though it’s hard for me to look anywhere that isn’t spaced in front of me at the moment. 

The Countess’ gaze flickers between us before she speaks to the guard captain, “That won’t be necessary.” 

Keita nods, before he fixes me with his grayed gaze. “Perhaps I should stay. Just in case…” His sentence drifts off, as he is eying me now with a completely different look than before. A look that I know well, but not from Vesuvia. 

Nadia furrows her eyebrows before she suddenly looks to me, much to my shock. “Jamie, do you think that’s necessary?” She asks politely, like this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having. 

I blink and look at her a tad incredulously,  _ why are you asking me, _ before I finally let my gaze rest on Asra who remains sitting close to me, almost flush against my left side. Finally, I murmur softly, apologetically, “... Ah, no, my lady. I… I’m in control of myself now.” My voice sounds hoarse. I clear my throat to try and alleviate the roughness when I meet Keita’s uncertain gaze and attempt to ease his evident and valid anxieties, “I mean no one here ill will. That was… unnatural, and not like me. It will not happen again, I swear.” 

Still, Keita hesitates. He regards me for a long moment before he looks to the Countess; she dismisses him with a movement of her chin. Only then does he take retreating steps away to leave the room with his other men and Ksasthra, leaving me alone with the Countess and Asra. 

I sigh, covering my face with my hands as I let out a soft breath and bury my hidden face into Asra’s neck, using the close proximity to whisper to him,  _ “... God. _ Asra, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I probably just fucked up your whole case, I’m so-” 

“Shh, shh, Jamie, it’s okay.” He runs his hands along my shoulders and down my arms, his magic easing the tension as it manifests in my muscles. He wraps his arms tightly around my shoulders, holding me close to his chest in a tight hug as he whispers back to me, “He hurt you, and has hurt you a lot in the past. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“Indeed you are.” I look up from where I was hiding behind my palms to meet the Countess’s gaze. She has pulled a chair to sit directly next to me, and although she is a complete stranger to me I find her presence along with Asra’s to be rather comforting. I don’t feel like she’s encroaching on me, rather Asra’s arms are a warm blanket and she is like Muriel’s fireplace in the deep of winter, a figure of comfort radiating out towards me even without direct contact.

She holds out a hand tentatively and when I don’t flinch away from her she pats my knee in a gently affirming manner, her gaze is penetrating but surprisingly soft and supple as she regards me with eyes of merlot. “This has obviously caused you a great deal of hardship. I am truly sorry that this situation has escalated to a point that it had to be brought to my attention.” 

I nod a little to her with an appreciative hum. Though my face is no longer buried in Asra’s neck, I stay close to him with my shoulder pressed into his chest, letting him hold me in this strange room on this strange couch in front of this stranger because his close physical proximity fills me with warmth and security; he is probably all that’s keeping me from losing my mind out of internalized fear and anxiety right now.

The Countess sits up a little, crossing her legs beneath her as she speaks with a diplomatic air, “If it’s any consolation, I can tell that there is no sort of magic upon you that would force you to act against your own will. And other magicians are more resistant to such spells, if I’m given to understand that correctly.” 

I furrow my eyebrows a little, now settled enough to try and speak normally I clear my throat and address the Countess, “Are… are you a magician?” 

At this she chuckles softly, a delightful chime-like sound that’s rather pleasant to hear before she slightly shakes her head, “Not at all. I simply understand how all people have magic inside them… Some have more than others. While you and Asra have oceans and seas, some have brookes, streams, or just a trickle of water. I have just happened to hone and refine mine to be something like a shallow lake… I know of magic, I can sense it in others and channel my own, but most spells are beyond my capabilities.” 

I nod in understanding and slight contemplation, settling to lean against Asra as he continues to use both his hands and his magic to help ease the agonizing tension under my skin. He hasn’t spoken, but I can feel his worry under his skin, in the rapid beat of his heart that I’m hyper-aware of under my shoulderblades. “And yet,” The Countess continues, her hands resting on the arm of the lounge chair I’m sitting in with a curious gleam in her gaze, “In all the knowledge that I’ve acquired, all the magic I’ve studied… I’ve never seen someone do anything quite like that before.”

I shift uncomfortably, keeping my gaze well to the side as shame burns in my face. “I apologize you had to see uh…  _ novelty…  _ under such circumstances, Countess.”

“I’m sorry as well.” The Countess answers with a surprising note of authenticity before she adds with a pleasant aside, “And please… Call me Nadia.” 

I blink at her in surprise but slowly nod, swallowing softly as I do, “Okay… Nadia.” I sit up a little so that I’m less withdrawn into Asra’s arms, more so like I’m a functioning adult. He lets me go, though his thigh continues to stay flush against mine as his hands glide down to rest around my waist instead, his fingertips dragging along the rough material of my tunic. 

“I’m terribly sorry that I interrupted the trial. I was just… I let my emotions get the better of me when Ksasthra started lying.” I admit with full honesty, my shoulders begin to sag as I let out a pained breath, “He… he  _ was _ the one who left these on me.” I lift my arms before dropping them back into my lap, “And many more in the past. He did it because he didn’t like Asra, he didn’t trust him because he’s a magician and… I suppose he thought he was protecting me, in his own strange way.” 

Quickly I shake my head, suddenly realizing that nows the best chance I’ll get to directly argue for Asra’s case and that I mustn’t squander it. So I fix my attention firmly on Nadia’s gentle gaze, and speak from the bottom of my heart. “That all aside… I just need you to know as the judge of this case that Asra did  _ not  _ take me out of his home last night against my will, nor enchant me or whatever to make it happen. He was doing what a good friend would do, what any good  _ person _ would do and followed after me when he thought I was in trouble. And when he found I was in trouble, he risked his own safety to get me out.” I look over at Asra meaningfully once I say this and find him staring at me with a spellbound expression, his wide eyes locked on mine with a look I’m unsure the meaning of. Then, speaking to Nadia while looking into Asra’s eyes I continue with a low murmur, “I don’t think I would have ever gotten out of that situation without him. He shouldn’t be punished for helping me when I most needed it… needed him.” 

The room is silent for a long time, even the air around us feels suspended as I look down at the floor and hold my hands tightly in my lap, suddenly embarrassed by how… much that was. Was that too much? Did that help at all? 

Nadia straightens, I look up at the movement and see that she was leaning towards me, though now her back is pressed to the back of her comfortable seat. “Your honesty and devotion does you credit.” Nadia regards me with a warm expression and then she, much to my shock,  _ winks _ at me. “It shows a lot about your character… as well as Asra’s, for him to have attracted the affection of an individual such as yourself.”

I glance over at him with wide eyes to see him looking to the side with the same amount of embarrassment I feel, a deep carmine burning in his cheeks. After a moment of recovering from the comment, twice as fast as I’m able to recover, he flickers his gaze to Nadia’s before sealing onto mine and curving his lips with a look of amusement. “There’s a lot to be attracted to.”

I flush under the praise, unsure of what to do with it, or even how to start taking it, but before I manage to wrestle with my thoughts effectively the doors into the room open quietly as Keita enters, politely closing the door after himself. With his arms at his sides he approaches until he’s at a respectful distance to speak, he turns militaristically to the crimson eyes of the woman beside me, “Countess, Ksasthra Njall would like to announce that he will be dropping all charges against Asra the Magician.”

I blink once. Twice. Suddenly I let out a breath of relief and turn to Asra and hug him with full strength, my arms wrapped tightly around his ribs. “That’s fantastic! What a relief!” I pause and pull away once the initial euphoria passes, Asra seems a little stunned by the sudden hug but is delighted nonetheless, as he beams right back at me until he sees my expression fall as questions begin to arise. 

Questions that Nadia has already numbered. “Did he give a reason for the sudden change of heart?” She asks with grace and dignity, gone unchanging throughout this entire process. 

Keita’s gaze flickers to me and my stomach sinks into another time and place. “He didn’t say anything except that ah… to request that he stays away from his house and his theatre.” He points at me sheepishly, his gray-eyed gaze flickering to the side like stormclouds roiling through the skies, “But ah… more colorfully. In a manner I am uncomfortable repeating.”

“His message is received without his words.” Nadia responds with a note of distaste, nodding to Keita before waving her hand, “Then I suppose there’s nothing more to be said. I assume he did not apologize for wasting your time and mine?” 

Keita shakes his head, his shoulders relaxing as he holds his hand casually on the hilt of his weapon, “No, he was quick to scurry out once he had recovered from his fainting spell.” 

I blink in surprise and immediately flush, swarmed with deep, black shame, “... He fainted? Truly?” 

Asra’s fingertips move and graze my chin, tapping me with a persistent question so I turn to face him at his request. He looks deep into my eyes and lets his hands fall to rest on top of mine, which I hadn’t realized until he does so that they were worming into the hem of my tunic; he murmurs softly to me as if we are alone in this room, “Ksasthra needed a wake up call to see you as you really are. Not a child that needs protecting, but a capable magician… a powerful one that he had wronged too many times. He wasn’t so much afraid of  _ you  _ as he was afraid of facing the consequences of his own actions.” 

It’s silent for a time as confusion and black fur twist in my throat before Keita suddenly speaks again, not paying any mind to me or Asra, “Your head servant also came by, they said that the Count is looking for you.” 

Nadia sighs softly in response, her hands resting on top of her knees, “Then I suppose I should see what my husband needs.” She rises then and compelled by the movement I do the same, Asra mirroring me almost in time. She turns to us and bows her head a little as she speaks, “I’m glad that no judicial action was necessary on this matter. If you ever find yourselves facing this problem again, please contact the guard, and they will be happy to help. As would I, if that is what is required.” We both nod, in junction with Keita much to my shock, who turns and leaves as soon as this is declared, but it appears that the Countess is not finished as Nadia’s eyes fall to mine and hold me still as she continues with a gentle look and a sweet tone, “If there’s any silver lining to be gleaned from this, it’s that I had the honor of meeting you, Jamie. I hope that it is not for the last time.” 

I find myself nodding in agreement to her words, warmth permeating from my throat like alcohol spilling into my stomach. It was a dark situation in order to have this meeting… but I had never had a face nor a personality to the title of Countess before now, and it leaves me wondering how I don’t hear more sung praises in the streets about her because she seems incredibly charming and, well… nice. I would certainly not complain about better befriending her in the future. “If you ever want a tarot reading, Asra’s really good at those.” I proffer with a smile, pointing to him with a thumb, “We have a shop just a few roads away from the town square, the one with the fountain.” 

Asra chuckles softly, “You’re getting better at them as well, in due time. You’ll be better than me before either of us can blink. But he’s right, Nadia. We would like it if you visited us.” It’s only then that I realize his hand is still lingering around my waist. It makes my face flush inexplicably, I’ve no clue why I suddenly feel embarrassed but I do, like I’m shirtless in such a nice environment, it seems scandalous. 

Nadia, much to my surprise, blushes a little at this, a bloom of crimson develops beneath her flawless skin and spreads out into the slope of her neck as she speaks, “I don’t go out into the city as often as I should… perhaps that is something I should change.” 

“It’s good for a ruler to have a close connection with the people.” Asra hums. 

Nadia nods pensively in response, and together the three of us head towards the doorway and out of the room. Once we are outside, I see the person with the ridiculous feathered hat standing there, anxiously pacing in wait for Nadia, no doubt. “My chamberlain will see that you make it to the gates.” Nadia says with a look to this figure, who seems to come to attention at the mention of their title and give us a wide eyed expectant look in response. 

“Thank you for your time.” I chip in one last time as I move to follow this chamberlain. She nods to me and smiles like sunshine on smooth stone before she turns and disappears into the expansive palace. 

The chamberlain guides Asra and I out of the palace quickly, their pace is quick and we have to march to really keep up with them. They disappear once we’re out of the gates and wordlessly we start heading back to Asra’s shop; neither of us speak, just yet, I think we’re both a little shocked and exhausted from that ordeal. I, frankly, don’t even have the capacity to speak until we arrive back, but we are not alone when we get there. A familiar, massive, burly figure stands just in front of our shop door, and a familiar lavender snake hangs casually from the hand painted sign just over his head. 

“Muriel, Faust found you!” Asra cries in delight as we approach, he hops and extends a hand as Faust drops to his shoulders and winds excitedly around his limbs, I can tell that she’s more than pleased to see her master again. 

Muriel is stoic, and although that’s always how he is, I can tell that worry is worn into his features as he examines Asra closely, an inspection that isn’t uncommon but is far more meticulous than usual. “She came to me at my hut. I thought that meant something was wrong, so I came to look for you, but you weren’t here.” 

“Everything’s alright now, fortunately. I’ll explain in a moment.” Asra straightens his scarf as Faust turns her head towards me, her tongue kisses my shoulder in greeting before Asra moves to open the shop door, “But first, I think we ought to have some lunch. Don’t you?” 

Well… I am kind of hungry. When I say kind of, I mean  _ really  _ hungry. So once we’re inside, I take up the mantle of making lunch, familiarizing myself with what’s in Asra’s kitchen before deciding on making some sandwiches for us. Asra is at first reluctant to allow me to, but after I give him a pleading look he quickly relents and instead sits at his small table with Muriel, who looks like he feels that he’s twice as big as he actually is. I don’t listen much to Asra recounting the tale, not so much by choice but rather because with the task at hand and the fog in my thoughts I can’t quite find myself able to process the words he says. I’m still reeling a little, shaken by what transpired, how stressful it was all because of Ksasthra. Started and ended by his hand. 

I finish making Asra’s sandwich so I hand it to him, avoiding his eyes. I wonder what truly made him decide to drop the charges. Perhaps he knew that he was going to lose, for I’m certain now that Nadia would’ve been on our side if it came to that. I want to think that it’s because he saw the error in his ways, but more likely than that… I think I know exactly what did it. 

I finish making Muriel’s sandwich so I hand it to him, when I set the plate down in front of him I suddenly realize that he just spoke while making eye contact with me. “Sorry, what?” I ask sheepishly, “Did you say something?” 

Muriel’s eyebrows slightly furrow but not in the annoyed way they usually do, more like he’s… concerned, but doesn’t want to admit it. He looks that way whenever Asra says he’s going on a trip, I’ve noticed, but I don’t know why he’d be making it now. Asra speaks then, pulling my attention to the glittering concern in his lavender gaze, “Muriel had just asked you how you were doing.” 

“Oh.” I flush a little in embarrassment and wave the two of them off as I turn around to make my own sandwich, “I’m doing okay. Why are you asking me? I’m not the one they clapped in irons.” 

Right. Those chains. They hung down like broken promises and icicles, cold and dead holding onto Asra like a dying half of a tree desperately clings to the living half after it’s struck by lightning. I hated the look of those things on him, I hated to see them but I’ve never experienced such a dark and visceral hatred as seeing them on someone I care about so. 

And all because of me. 

“That doesn’t mean that it wasn’t or can’t be upsetting for you.” Asra counters, though his tone is gentle and respectful. “... Which it seemed like it was.” 

I wince a little, suddenly gritting my teeth as I nearly drop the plate I was holding to the floor. Instead I set it back on the counter with my back to the pair behind me. My shoulders curl inward, my ears begin to ring, my chest begins to hurt like I ran out of breath while forced underwater. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s good that it upset you, it was an upsetting situation.” Asra again. Sweet and soft, trying to understand. I don’t want him to understand. 

Do I?

… Someday, maybe. But not today. Not after that. “It was.” I reply without commitment. Asra doesn’t push it, and Muriel certainly doesn’t, so eventually the conversation morphs instead someplace that I’m not there for. I’m too preoccupied with Faust winding up my leg, into my lap, then around my shoulders, a settling, pressing weight that keeps my thoughts present enough for me to realize that I live inside a body that has to eat and that I’m a person that has to speak when spoken to. It’s what’s polite.

I scratch her beneath her chin. She looks up at me with soft, unblinking scarlet eyes, like harvest moons. “Who’s the prettiest snake in the world?” I coo to her softly, smoothing my fingertips across her back in a way I can tell she likes. “You are! Yes, you are!” 

I can focus on this instead. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to regret everything I’ve ever done that allowed today to happen… but for right now, I can focus on this instead. Asra speaking to Muriel. His foot pressed on top of mine under the table. Faust around my shoulders, her tail squeezing my wrist. 

I can focus on this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was not how i thought this chapter was gonna be, i thought this was gonna be short enough to be the first half of what the next chapter is gonna be about but i haha fucking cant make anything simple or easy on myself can i  
> but i did it!!!! it is did!!!! and now Jamie has 1 (one) more friend. Yay Nadia!  
> Stay in tune for the climax of the gay to strike you square in the jaw.


	8. The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one door closes, another one opens, and this doorway is leading into incredibly uncharted territory for Jamie. Territory regarding Asra, for now that Ksasthra has been dealt with Jamie's world has altered. Now he stands at a crossroads, where there are many paths he could take that will lead him to different places... but once he starts down one route, there is no turning back.

Asra and I don’t talk about what happened at the trial, about the shop, about my future plans, about anything for about about a month because he decided that a few days after the trial was the time to go on a trip northeast to gather reagants for the shop, leaving me to manage it all by myself. It was difficult and new, but I liked the work; it kept me busy, it kept me preoccupied, though I had to turn away more people than I’d care to admit because I wasn’t yet comfortable giving tarot readings. I just… don’t understand how the Arcana are supposed to talk to me. They are just cards, how are they supposed to  _ talk  _ to me? And while I know their meanings better now after studying them for a time, Asra had said that I still lack that substance that they, as external figures beyond mortal comprehension, are supposed to provide. In that, they aren’t talking to me yet, for some reason. Why? Who knows, certainly not I.

So I’ve just instead told people who came looking for readings that Asra was out and would return soon. Some were understanding, others were upset, but ultimately everything worked out. Which, honestly, same could be said about the situation with Ksasthra. Nadia and Asra? Understanding. Muriel and I? Upset. 

Muriel’s feelings on what happened came as a shock, actually, because I figured that if he felt anything at all about it he would’ve gotten angry with me for putting his closest friend in harm’s way. I think initially he might have felt that way, but it wasn’t until after he came to check on me - not checking to see if Asra was back yet, he’d said he was checking on  _ me  _ of all people - for the third time in the span of a week that I realized he might actually have been worried about me. He’d asked me how I was, if I’d seen Ksasthra at all, he even warned me against going to the theatre even though I told him I had no intention of going anyway. 

He shows he cares in his own small, cute ways. I can tell when I call him out or ask him about it because his face turns bright red and he fumbles with an excuse to leave, even though most times he doesn’t actually leave. But even when it’s not obvious, I feel his brand of affection when he visits; he brings me some food he’d made earlier that day, he spends time with me, talking to me a little but mostly letting me talk at him before he leaves. Just the act of entering the city to come see  _ me _ is a massive testament in my opinion, considering how much he hates people… In all honesty I’ve never felt more honored that someone, especially Muriel, was willing to do so much just for me. 

I don’t think he’d ever admit he feels this way, though… but I don’t really think I need him to. He says all he needs to with his small picnic basket of eggs and wild vegetables, knowing I like the taste of wild onions. I think it’s because he picks them, though. Things always are nicer when they’re gifts. 

When Asra returned, Muriel’s visits dropped sharply back to their usual once in a blue moon, which is understandable; he might have used all of his capacity to see me more often with Asra gone, and now that he’s back he feels that he can retreat back into the forest and regenerate. By now, winter is beginning to turn to spring, the minimal snows - snow that I’ve now grown used to as the new normal - melt away with the warm breeze as the flowers in the forest return and the ships from the wharf begin arriving in hordes. 

New items from across the world are now for sale across the gondola waters in the Shopping District, heckling shopkeepers trying to sell their wares far more aggressively than they sell up on the upper tier… It happens every spring, I’ve come to find out, and it’s something I look forward to every year. It’s the exact kind of energy I sought when I came to the city, melting people one into the other, being just another face in a crowd where no one more important than the other, everyone is so startlingly different that there is no normal, there is only the consistency of bodies. 

This is what I’m daydreaming about as I lean my chin my palm with my elbow on the front counter of the shop. I’ve had a lot of time to myself to think and daydream, though now that Asra’s back and has been back for a few days now I’ve thankfully had less time alone. It was nice at first, time for me to collect the shards of myself and return to normal, but after the first week… I started feeling very lonely. Just as lonely as when I’d dislocated my knee and was bedridden for a week, except this time I had the option to see people but I didn’t end up taking it. 

I didn’t want to face my old friends at the theatre in fear of what questions they would have, and outside of them, Muriel, and Asra, I don’t really have any friends. The people I spoke most to were customers at the shop and Muriel… Oh! And Selasi! How could I have forgotten that charming baker? I ended up speaking with him quite often when I was feeling particularly melancholy. He has a lovely voice and a soft outlook on life, it was intriguing to listen to him and delightful to get to know him beyond a superficial level. 

The curtain from the back room opens, and I can hear the soft tenor of Asra’s voice as he bids good afternoon to the person he just did a reading for. They bustle past me, waving a polite goodbye before they stride out, leaving the door and the jingling bell in their wake. I glance over just as Asra emerges from the back room, pocketing his tarot deck with a slow sink in his shoulders. His eyes are closed as he takes deep, measured breaths, his hands moving through and gently ruffling his iridescent, moonlight hair… It looks rather soft. I kind of want to touch it… 

But that would be completely inappropriate. 

“You look tired.” I murmur gently, twisting slightly so I’m leaning my hip on the counter instead of on my forearms, “You should take a breather. I can handle things down here if you want to lie down for a nap or something for a little while.” 

Asra’s eyes open and meet mine with a luster of affection, like starshine and cosmic dust he smiles with a quirk of his lips as he murmurs sweetly in response, “Perhaps you’re right… a nap does sound rather nice.” He glances at the stairwell with a dreamy, listless look before he turns back to me, approaching with slow, deliberate steps he pauses to lean just next to me behind the counter, “But I find talking to you to be more invigorating than a nap. What have you been up to out here?”

I smile shyly and shrug offhandedly, worming my fingertips into the hem of my shirt as I glance off to the side, “Nothing much. I was just daydreaming.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow curiously at this, his gaze rakes down my chest and to my hands worming through the threadbare material of my tunic. “What about?” 

I drop my shirt hem and wave dismissively, “Just now I was just thinking about the Shopping District… how it’s gotten busy and wondering why that is, things like that.”

Asra’s eyes were meeting mine while I was talking but now that I’ve fallen silent they’ve drifted back downwards to where my hands were on my shirt helm. “Is there something down there you wanted to buy?”

I huff and throw a hand to the side as if to emphasize on my point, “Well,  _ yeah,  _ I’ve been needing to buy clothes for like… a year now… but I don’t want to spend any of the savings that I’ve set aside for my own place. I want to get out of your hair and let you have your other half of your bed back as soon as possible.” 

Asra blinks at me in surprise for a brief moment before he suddenly snaps to life, shaking his head sharply he takes my hand and sets his other hand on the counter, “Oh no, absolutely not, I will not have you worry over a little thing like that.” He looks at my hand, at the counter, then at the door of the shop before his eyes return to mine with an undeniable gleam of mischief, “Come on, let’s take you shopping.” 

I stare at him for a solid beat, stupified into silence before I can refind my tongue, “What? Now?” 

“Yes, now! This is an emergency, you deserve nice clothes, and I want to make sure you get them!” He reports curtly, pulling away instead to head up the stairs with sudden purpose in his step, “Come on, Faust, we’re going shopping!” 

“Wait, Asra…!” I run after him, taking the stairs two at a time so I arrive to the second floor right as he’s ducking into his bedroom. I brush past the beads hanging in the doorway and rest my hands impatiently on my waist, ‘Hold on a moment, didn’t you hear me? … Don’t you want your shop back to yourself?”

Asra pauses as he raises his hand to the windowsill, where Faust was sunning herself on a cozy pile of her scarves. As she twines her way around his arm and around his shoulders he turns back to face me with a surprisingly serious expression, and I balk a little when he approaches and cups his hands on my shoulders, his gaze penetrating deep into my bones, “Jamie… In all honesty? No. I don’t want my shop back to myself.” I blink at him in surprise as his face starts to turn a deep crimson, his gaze sheepishly flickers to the side as he continues with surprising verity, “Having you here has been… wonderful. I’d grown used to living and sleeping around other people, with how I grew up and then living with Muriel… having such a big place to myself felt lonely more times than not. Until you came. Now… Now it feels like I’m living in a home rather than in a house. You add fresh air to this place, you give it life and make it breathe. 

“So I don’t want you to act out of concern for my sake. At least, not on this. On this… Take your time. I’ll be happy if you do.” He glances to the floor on my left and mutters finally under his breath, as if speaking to himself, “Is that selfish of me…?”

I smile a little in response and reach up to grasp his shoulder, mirroring his touch and causing his carmine tinted expression to focus back on me. “I don’t think that’s selfish. I’m really glad you feel that way…” I glance to the side, at the bed Asra and I share, the pile of pillows down the center, the iron gated window, the beads in the doorway, the kitchen beyond. “I haven’t really thought about it that way… This place being a home. I’m still learning what a home is… I’m not sure I’ve ever had one, so my definition’s hard to place accurately but… All I know is that I’ve enjoyed staying here with you. With Faust.” I boop her nose as she peeks at me from within Asra’s vestments, causing him to chuckle as I continue, “And I think that’s what matters for now. So if you aren’t eager to get rid of me yet… then I’ll be sure to count my blessings and not press my luck.” 

Asra smiles in such a way that reveals the delightful dimples in his cheeks. “You speak of luck as if I’m not already the lucky one.” With that he turns away and snatches up his multi-colorful overcoat that hangs past his knees and cuts off at his shoulders as well as his wine-colored scarf. It’s a certified Asra look to me, as I know no one else who consistently wears more than one scarf at a time. “Now come! I’d love to help you try Vesuvian fashion.” 

I laugh a little in surprise, “Interested in dressing me up, are you?” I don my black cloak, fastening its dulled silver moon over my right clavicle. I’d stolen it from a high end tailoring shop on the border of Thavuntis leading into the mountains, those very same mountains I had to pass through in order to get to the south, to Vesuvia. This cloak has gotten me through thick and thin, because of the cold in the north I’ve gone through many cloaks in my time but this one was by far the best quality, and hence has lasted me the longest. In fact, the clothes that I still have are from that shop, as most other clothes I’d bought in the interim were too cheaply made to last more than half a year of constant use. 

“Perhaps a little.” Asra murmurs, raising an eyebrow over at me as he waits patiently by the glimmering beads. “The way you dress is very unique and original to you, it’s becoming… though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to see how you’d look like in other types of dress.” 

As I pick up a pouch where I keep some of my savings, I allot a portion towards clothing purchases for today. Just enough clothing so I don’t have to wash my clothes once every three days… I can worry about more later. Even though now I have a chest of drawers for my clothes instead of a sack, thanks to Asra’s kindness in sharing more than just his bed, I don’t want to expand past the two sets of drawers I already use. 

I snort with a laugh as I cock an eyebrow at him, “Like a clown most likely, I can’t pull off clothes like you can… and correct me if I’m wrong, but did you just call my sense of fashion ugly?”

Asra quickly shakes his head with a loud snort, “No! I said  _ unique _ and  _ original!” _

I curl my nose at him and stick out my tongue playfully as I lace up my boots, “That means  _ ugly.”  _

“It does not. On you, your clothes are charming.” 

“But…?” 

Asra laughs again, a melodic, beautiful sound that I’ve gone too long without, “There’s no but! I meant what I said.”

I scoff and shake my head, standing upright once I’ve got my shoes on, “I guess you’ll have to see for yourself. You just have to promise not to laugh at me when I’m inevitably put in something ridiculous.”

“I highly doubt you would look ridiculous in anything.” Asra states with total confidence, he’s so certain about it that I almost find myself believing him. 

“Oh, I assure you, I can. I’d look like an absolute eyesore in what you’re wearing, for example.” I reach out and touch the front of his vested jacket, “I don’t wear such bright colors well, but you… your body is like a canvas. Everything you wear just enhances the beauty that’s already there.” 

Asra blinks at me in shock, to my distinct pleasure a mystic red blossoms and burns under his eyes as he stammers, “I… you think I’m beautiful?” 

I raise an eyebrow at Asra a tad incredulously, “Of course I do, I’d have to be blind not to see it. Don’t tell me that you haven’t been told that before.” 

Asra quickly shakes his head as he stammers, “No, yes- I mean, I have. I also- I just…” He pauses, takes a breath as he tries to recover himself enough to manage a sentence or two, much to my absolute delight; I like watching him squirm for once, as he’s usually so calm and collected. “I like how I look, I’m comfortable in my body and how I present myself. I just… It has more layers of meaning when it’s you who compliments me.”

Stunned, I stare at Asra with slow blinks before I laugh rather heartily, “Why does  _ my  _ opinion matter? No, not an opinion, some things are just a known fact and this is one of them. Want me to confirm for you that the sky is blue as well?”

Asra shakes his head at me with an amused laugh, hiding half of his face behind his fingers. Together we walk out of the bedroom and down the narrow stairs to the shop floor below to turn the sign to CLOSED. He doesn’t say anything else on this matter, but the sunset rouge in his cheeks doesn’t fade until we’ve left this topic behind three more. 

With everything sorted, Asra and I - and Faust of course - head out towards the Shopping District on the hunt for new clothes. 

On the bright side, I’m pleased to hear that Asra has been called beautiful in the past; I would have to have some serious words with the populace of Vesuvia if that were not the case, because  _ how  _ could anyone who laid eyes on Asra not see him as the alluring, mystical person he is? He’s truly one of the most handsome people I’ve met… Though, in all frankness, I never much thought about it. It’s just a fact; the sky is blue, the tides rise and fall, and Asra is beautiful. It flustered me as I tried to grow accustomed to it when I first met him… It’s like, suddenly, every night was a full moon, and while it was dazzling to see and took some time to accustom to, eventually it became a part of my new normal. The weeks and weeks I’d spend without his presence was like the night had plunged into darkness and I’d occasionally forgotten what it was like before until I saw him again and his brilliance dazzled me all over again. 

_ I can’t believe I’ve never told him that I think he’s beautiful, _ I think to myself as we walk down the stairs leading towards the docks.  _ I should remedy that. _

“Alright, where do you want to go first?” Asra asks as we melt onto the street. He keeps close to my side as people bustle back and forth, he has to speak either directly into my ear or shout in order to be heard over the cacophony of sound ringing throughout the street. 

And by  _ God  _ do I love it. The energy, the drive, the pulsing fabric of humanity all around us. I could get lost in it, being a part of something so big and moving and imperfect. In the north, Asra and I would stand out like sore thumbs, though Asra far more than I, but here we’re just two more people to an already massive crowd. I love that… the anonymity of existing here. 

Back to the subject at hand, my eyes lock on a shop, with an embedded shore front inside a building, that seems to be populated with all kinds of clothing. “How about there?” I call, pointing it out to him for his opinion. 

He looks at it and shrugs, “Good place to start.” 

With his affirmation, we head together to the store. It’s not as terribly busy within as most of the other merchant shops are, which are in makeshift stands outside for products just off the ships, but this shop has got a few people inside that don’t even look up at us as Asra and I enter the quieter atmosphere. He lets out a relieved breath once we’re past the crowd and mutters to me, “Certainly is busy today.” 

“Isn’t it great?” I enthuse, beaming as I start to scan the lines of clothing throughout the store. A deep emerald green tunic catches my eye, but when I pull on it to investigate it I see that it has a far wider neckline than I’m used to, so I quickly release it back to its hanging position. “I love the energy of crowds.” 

“... You do?” Asra asks with a slight tone of incredulousness. 

I glance over at him and get a better look to see the slight set in his shoulders, the discomfort in how his fingers fiddle with his satchel. “Yeah. But my experiences are not universal… Are they?” 

Asra sheepishly smiles in response, moving to stand beside me to look at the clothing I’m checking out simultaneously, “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine so long as I’m with you.” I choke a little on my tongue at this, but before I can dwell too long on that he pulls at the green tunic I was just looking at and gives me an intrigued expression, his lips curve in a strangely alluring manner as he purrs, “How about this?” 

I bite my lip and point out the wide neckline, “Won’t that reveal too much? I mean, that looks like it’ll go almost to my shoulders.” 

“I think it would.” Asra responds, like this is trivial, before he does a double take and looks at me with blinking astonishment, “Wait, did you just say… it’s  _ too  _ revealing?” 

I flush a little in response, “Yes!” When Asra blinks at me again I huff and busy my hands looking at clothes I don’t particularly care for, “Listen, back in the north, too much skin being revealed meant frostbite, so… let’s just say that one of the more difficult cultural things I’ve had to adapt to since coming to Vesuvia is how much skin you people nonchalantly show.” 

“I see.” Asra releases the garment and moves to stand on my other side to look at clothing ahead of me on the rack, “So, do you want to try lighter clothes? It’s alright if not… though that will most certainly limit your selection.” He pulls out a bright orange shirt that I realize is hardly a shirt, unless it was made for a very wide baby, for the hem comes up way too short for it to cover anything but the top part of a person’s chest. 

“... Just not anything too crazy.” I answer, hoping that Asra could take my meaning. Case by case, I’d be willing to get… adventurous. “So not that.” I say to the orange baby-shirt, pushing it out of Asra’s curious fingers. 

He grins and giggles rather wickedly as he moves right along. “Alright, Understood. Though, I’m sure you would’ve looked ravishing in it.” 

I scoff and roll my eyes at him, “I’m not letting you dress me like a fool so early on. Save some of the good stuff for later.” 

“Alright, alright.” He relents, teasing and amused as he returns to where I started and pulls out that green tunic we were looking at before skimming his way along, grabbing item after item after a brief look that I can’t quite glean information from except what color each item mainly consists of. 

“Can I… How can I tell if these fit?” I ask after a moment, holding up a pair of nondescript black pants to the light. It’s hard to tell just by looking at them. 

“Right there.” Asra points and when I follow his slender finger I see a set of curtains hoisted in the back with signs on the front of them, saying OCCUPIED or UNOCCUPIED in large red and green letters. “You can try them on before you buy them.” 

I blink and nod appreciatively. “How efficient.” I look down at the black pants that I’d decided to try on and then I look over to see the swarms of color burdened in Asra’s arms. “Are you shopping for yourself?” I mutter, eying some of the selections. I didn’t think such a bright pink was possible to make in pigment form. 

“No, these are for you.” Asra clarifies, hoisting them into his arms with a warming smile that eases the anxiety his words cause, “I figured I’d give you a variety so we can see what you like and what you don’t. That way we can figure out what look is yours.” 

I chuckle with a crinkle of my nose as I reexamine the clothing with a new eye. “You’re  _ really  _ getting into this. Okay, I’ll try your clothes, but you have to promise not to be offended if I don’t like something.”

“Of course!” Asra responds with a hint of indignance that I’d dare imply he’d be anything other than utterly accomodating.

The smile that forms along my features is starting to make my cheeks hurt.  _ Wow. I think I really missed him.  _

I raise an eyebrow in challenge and touch the bubblegum pink tunic, formless beneath the masses of rather luxurious types of cloth but easy to spot because of the gaudiness of its color, “I don’t like this color, especially not on me. Nor this.” I point to another piece of clothing beneath it, a dandelion yellow something that makes my eyes hurt to look at. “I don’t want to look like I’m supposed to be directing traffic.” 

Asra laughs outright as he pulls the clothes free, returning them to slots on the rack beside us, “Alright, good to know… Not your taste.” He raises what remains in his grasp as he tilts his chin towards the curtained sections in the back, “Shall we discover what is?” 

Asra keeps guard for me outside one of the small sectionals as I head inside with the mound of clothes, promising I’ll come out for his judgement once I’m dressed. The inside of the curtained section has a small cushioned seat, I assume for holding my choices, and a long mirror that stands taller than I do in the corner. 

It’s difficult to discern individual pieces in the pile Asra gave me, but once I’ve split them apart I’m able to actually get undressed and pull on the different clothes. The first thing I’d grabbed was that deep, emerald green tunic that Asra and I had both saw, so I decide I might as well start there, and with the pants I’d grabbed. That’ll get me initiated pressed right up against my comfort level, and from there I can work my way outwards and see where the hard boundaries lie. 

As soon as the tunic is on my shoulders I immediately feel like I’m wearing something broken or ripped because there’s no way that this much of my neck and shoulders should be exposed, but even as I pull and tug at the collar I can’t find a good settling position. However, as I look at myself in the mirror I can’t help but wonder at how little is actually exposed. For once my collarbones can see the light of day, as well as the gentle slope between my neck and my shoulder, which in comparison to what most people wear is rather mild, exceedingly normal, but it still feels strange. Completely, utterly alien. There are slits in this tunic’s sleeves as well, I hadn’t noticed until the tunic was on but there’s a gash from the top of the shoulder down to the pine-colored ribbons on the edges of the sleeves that stop at my elbows, revealing a portion of my upper arms when I move them.

I’ve never owned (at least honestly) such a nice article in my life.

The pants fit, and are comfortably snug, so I decide to get Asra’s opinion. I know he won’t mock me for my conservative tastes, but as I come out while awkwardly tugging on the collar I can’t help but poke fun at myself, I’m talking even before I’m fully revealed from behind the curtain, “Are you sure this shirt isn’t broken? The neck is so wide, and there are these holes in the sleeves… I think whoever wore this shirt last must have lost a knife fight!” 

When I straighten my sleeves a little and rest my hands on my hips, I meet Asra’s gaze where he sits on a plush cushion just in front of me. His eyes are hilariously wide, I can see their movement trailing from my face, to my collar, my shoulders, my chest, then down before he clears his throat, garnets arising from within his face to adorn his cheekbones, “I… What? Sorry, what did you ask?” 

I raise my arms and show him the slits in the shirt. “Just making a joke about how whoever wore this shirt last must have lost a knife fight. It’s a little weird, my neck and shoulders have never felt so cold, but… I think it’s alright. I’m not super uncomfortable with it… Unless I look ridiculous. What do you think? Do I look ridiculous?”

Asra’s lips open, close, open again before his face flushes a darker red than before. “I…” He fumbles with himself as Faust emerges from within his tunic and peers at me curiously, tilting her head to the side as if she were intrigued by my outfit as well before Asra continues after clearing his throat, “I think you look lovely… but that’s no different than usual. What matters is do  _ you  _ like it?” 

I raise an eyebrow and look back down at myself.  _ Flatterer, trying to stay noncommittal.  _ I shrug with a bashful smile, “Yeah, I think so.” I turn back towards the curtained room after tossing some words over my shoulder, “Thanks for the _ helpful feedback.”  _

Asra makes a soft noise that I can’t quite discern as I chuckle to myself, getting undressed and pulling on the next set of clothes from the top of Asra’s pile. This one is much more tight fitting, maroon vestment that slips on over my head, it has a silky latch around my throat and it leaves my shoulders bare. It’s almost like the inverse of the last tunic I just wore that it covers what it uncovered and uncovers what it did. There’s a gold and scarlet scarf in association with it, but it seems like too much to have it around my neck, so wearing the same black pants as before I come out of the dressing room with it at hand, frowning at it in confusion, “Okay, you put a scarf with this one but I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to wear it, you’re the scarf person, how should I-” 

I trail off when I look up and see Asra, now standing stock still and red as a ruby with his eyes square on me, an expression very much like he just swallowed something incredibly sour and isn’t sure how to handle it. “Are you okay?” I ask cautiously, blinking at him while completely at a loss as to what has him acting this way.

Asra audibly swallows, his gaze flickering to my shoulders and then to the scarf in my hand as he seems to pull himself together, “Y-yes! Yes. I…” He clears his throat and holds up a finger in telling me to wait before he takes the scarf from me. He moves around to stand behind me, looping the voluminous, sheer fabric around my waist in a lopsided manner, his touch lingering around the cloth pressed flush to my skin beneath it as he does so. Ahead of us I see a mirror erected, I hadn’t noticed it before as I was a little too caught up in my own head and Asra’s lack of opinion, but now with Asra behind me I can see both Asra and I standing in its reflection. He’s hovering just over my shoulder, at first he’s looking across my neck and shoulders in a lingering manner before he meets my eyes in the mirror and smiles. He busies his hands straightening the scarf as his lips brush my ear intimately when he whispers, “Jamie… you look  _ beautiful.”  _

I haven’t turned quite this red quite this fast in quite some time. I flush, burning up in embarrassment so much that I have to hide my face behind my hand as I playfully swipe at Asra with the other, “Oh you flatterer. Are you sure it isn’t too much?” I hold my arms out wide and showcase the amount of nothing lining my arms from fingertip to neck, “I don’t ever remember seeing so much of my arms exposed to sunlight before.” 

Asra chuckles charmingly as he deftly shakes his head, moving to stand close before me rather than just behind me, “Not at all. In fact, maybe you ought to allow yourself some freedom. I’m sure your arms would appreciate being kissed by the sunlight more often…” He reaches down and gently takes my hand, pressing his lips softly to my knuckles, then to the back of my hand, my wrist, and then letting it drop like he didn’t just rip some part of my internal organs out to take with him when he disengages. I have a sudden  _ burn  _ then, a heat that feels trapped in the pits of my belly like the fire of a dragon that I can’t quite explain but can feel as real as anything, as real as the chill of the air on my exposed skin. 

“You sound like you’re about to ask for a loan with all your flattery today.” I tease, rubbing my wrist as I try to sort out exactly what the  _ hell  _ I’m feeling. I don’t let him answer, instead turning so I can change into something else because, after all, we don’t have all day to linger.

We repeat this with several outfits, though none were as successful as those first two. I refuse to put on a few, I tell Asra it’s because of some minute detail but in reality it’s because they’re tunics that have very revealing backs that would show the scars I bear to all, even if my hair were down. I feel bad about the deception but… I’m entitled to keep some things private. This one thing won’t hurt him, and it  _ would  _ hurt me to have to explain to him that my back exists in the state it does, even completely disregarding how it came to be.

I think he’d understand that. 

I got worried about halfway through shopping because Asra was getting suddenly feverish, his face was so so red and his expressions… baffling. It’s hard to describe exactly what he was doing, but he would stammer a lot more than usual and was visibly burning up. I asked if he needed to go home and rest, or if he needed water or something, but he insisted he was having a good time, eagerly almost, so we kept going, even so far as to head to another shop after I bought a few things at this one. Eventually, by the time our spree was over, I had new clothes to last me a week and a lighter purse, though not as light as I originally thought. Mostly it was because Asra would try to bargain for my purchases with the little baubles and charms he carries with him from his travels, despite how I argued with him against it, he insisted. 

The best part about the whole trip was after it was all over we went back to the shop together and collapsed on his bed. I’d taken off my shoes and went about putting my new clothes away as Asra reclined, his arms behind his head as Faust wound herself up in the evening rays of sunshine on the windowsill, evidently worn out herself. “This was really nice.” I murmur as I’m folding one of my new tunics, a white one with little rhinestones and colorful stitching along the hems, “Thank you for coming with me. It was really fun to do that together.” 

Asra’s soft lavender eyes part and graze my form as I flash him a smile, putting my things in my allotted drawer - just enough for everything to fit. “Of course.” He responds offhandedly. As I take off my cloak off then and shift to sit on the edge of the bed in relaxation he speaks again in a softer, more tender manner, “Sometimes it’s good for the soul to turn over a new leaf when change comes for us, and what better way to embrace the future than putting our best foot forward… What better way to do that than to get you clothing that makes you feel and look good? Powerful, invigorated, charming, confident… irresistible…” 

I raise an eyebrow and sit up on an elbow to peer over the wall of pillows at Asra. He hasn’t moved, his arms are still folded under his head as his legs lay stretched out before him, but now his gaze has drifted to the wall as a familiar sangria arises in his cheeks again, his lips slightly parted like he was going to keep going but thought better of it at the last second. 

I burst into a smile and rise to my feet once more, “I’m not sure if clothes can accomplish all that… but I’d be lying if I said that it doesn’t make me feel more like a Vesuvian citizen to dress like one, too.” I pad softly into the adjacent room, glancing over my shoulder as I call, “I was gonna make some dinner, how does a fruit salad sound?” 

Asra groans audibly from the bed, making me laugh as he makes his enthusiastic consent known even from here. I can feel his gaze on me as I move in the kitchen, it’s not an unfamiliar one nor an unwelcome one but suddenly I’m aware of it more than anything else in the world, more than my actions in preparing food, my own thoughts, my own breathing. I feel naked, vulnerable, even doing something so domestic as making dinner… but not in a bad way. No, I feel like a treasure to be admired, like he’s  _ admiring  _ me rather than just watching me work which he no doubt is doing, but… I can’t shake that thought once it’s upon me. That I’m something desirable in his eye, something wanted, something  _ he  _ wants… something beautiful in his eyes. 

I’m not sure what to do with that feeling. 

…

_ Thin, towering pines, daggered leaves digging into the soles of my feet as I leap over a set of gnarled tree roots. Darkness cut into strips by sharp white moonlight turns the rough bark into the keys of a pipe organ, it’s hard to see through the peeling shadow. I run, the slapping of bare feet on the pine needled earth, my own rapid breath making my ears rattle like chains…  _

_ I hear it again, suddenly ringing out in the black forest like a scream; the cracking of a whip, the terrifying gush of wind that happens when it’s right next to your ear. I wince and nearly fall in my mad rush to escape but by the miracle of a sticky conifer I manage to force myself back on the path away, away, as far away as I can. I see the silvery outline through the black trees, the end is close, so close, I just have to get there and then I’ll be safe- _

_ I break the treeline so fast I nearly lose my balance coming upon a steep cliff. I slam to a halt, if I were a heartbeat slower I would be falling thousands and thousands of feet down to the crashing ocean below. The roar of the pounding waves suddenly reaches my ears and breaks the oppressive silence around me like a thrown looking glass.  _

_ I hear a noise behind me, a sudden footfall and the cracking of a twig, but I find myself unable to turn around to see who’s there. I can sense them nonetheless; a person, standing behind me, advancing closer slowly but surely. I tiptoe forward, closer to the edge and shiver when I look down at the harrowing distance below, my knees suddenly feel weak and my breath comes harder than when I was sprinting through the trees. I’m trapped.  _

_ The person is directly behind me now, so close I could reach out and touch them but I still can’t turn around to face them. I feel found, like I was a shrouded mantlepiece that has now been stripped of its covering to be shown to the barren world stretching out below.  _

_ Then a hand touches my wrist, the spell breaks when I feel myself being turned about and within a blink the scenery changes. The grasses between my boots morph to cobblestones, the air loses the mist of the sea to instead show the wooden walls of the shop. It’s quiet, my eyes are out of focus but I recognize the short, fluffy, white hair, the lavender hues that strike out into me and release the tension in my shoulders from the chase.  _

_ “Found you.” Asra purrs with a cheeky grin. He looks just like a self satisfied cat. He presses closer to me and on instinct to maintain a respectful distance I step back only to remember that the cliff is there, for a moment I’m seized with panic until my back hits a firm, stone wall.  _

_ Absolute respite. ‘No falling to my death today, it seems.’ I think to myself with relief as I relax fully against the wall.  _

_ Asra closes the distance effortlessly, he plants a forearm on the wall next to my head and leans so close into my personal space that I can see every flicker in his orchid eyes, I can count each of his thick strands of starlight hair if I were to focus on them, but I can’t really do that, not with him being so close. I feel unimaginably distracted by it, his aura mingles with my thoughts, causes them to fade in and out of focus like fog on a plain.  _

_ Despite our proximity, I immediately find myself relaxing. My heart continues to race, though now I know it’s not because I’m afraid anymore… so why does it beat so hard, then? Why does my face suddenly feel so hot? I was just running, perhaps I’m… it’s probably only-  _

_ “I have only one question for you.” Asra’s voice is breathy, light as mist as his gaze rakes from mine downwards, trailing in an almost tangible fashion that I can feel the trail of heat his eyes leave behind, a small snake of attention dragging down my throat. I’ve never felt so scrutinized like this, at least not in a way that didn’t leave me feeling like I wanted to crawl out of my skin and hide. No, not at all, Asra’s gaze digging into my skin makes me feel… reveled. I feel wanted, in what way I can’t really understand but it’s leaving me  _ **_breathless._ ** _ But why? What’s happening to me? _

_ “What question is that?” I ask, swallowing on the surprising amount of dryness in my mouth. Do I have a fever? I feel so so hot all over all of a sudden…  _

_ Asra cocks an eyebrow at this, his eyes briefly touch on my throat at the gesture and the intensity of the heat of his gaze seems to bear down on someplace deep in my core, digging a deep well by force of Asra’s stare alone. He leans in closer to me and towards my ear, I can just barely feel his lips brush the skin behind my jawline and it’s like a shock of lightning through my veins, it’s so soft I almost shouldn’t feel it, shouldn’t feel it, but I do, it’s like Asra’s lips are storm fronts and I’m a forest full of trees with shallow roots. “What do you want?”  _

_ I exhale, too caught up in the sensations for a moment to recognize he’s speaking to me but the ethereal beauty of his voice pulls me back in as if by the collar, “W-what?”  _

_ “What do you want?” Asra chuckles, as if amused by my blundering tongue, and that’s when his hands move. I feel his fingertips brush against my wrists, testing, exploring, sliding upwards, weaving under my shirt sleeves and pushing them up to my biceps to slip his hands beneath, skin to skin, pulse to pulse.  _

_ I’m completely at his mercy. I can’t move even if I wanted to, but as his hands shift to touch my waist and flit up my torso I find myself  _ **_really_ ** _ not wanting to. Should I not want to? I don’t know what I should feel. I just know that it feels really good and that I… Can I…? _

_ Cautiously, oh so cautiously, like my very touch may make this moment shatter like glass, I reach out to Asra and gently rest my hands on his waist. Immediately he purrs in response, full of self satisfaction and contentment, his heated breath mingles in the ozone air between us. Does that mean… does he want me to touch him, too?  _

_ His hands grow friskier, almost hungrier as they trail back to my arms and up to my hands on him. He laces his fingertips overtop of my lightly wandering fingers and proceeds to guide them up his sides, to the shallow curve of his hips, then upward and onto his chest, like he wants for me to feel every inch of him and he wants to  _ **_feel_ ** _ me feel  _ **_him_ ** _. That burning sensation that Asra was infusing into my blood seems to bubble forth from my heart and into my hands as I explore him. Like they have their own minds my hands sift upwards, touching the collar of his open shirt before they cautiously slide beneath the cloth, gracing his bare skin, soft and supple. I’ve touched him before, of course, but not like this, never like this, this is far more invasive than anything I’ve ever dreamed of doing to Asra before. Immediately I latch my gaze onto Asra’s, wordlessly wondering if this… strangeness… was okay with him.  _

_ Asra’s forehead gently touches mine as my hands slide beneath his shirt, a lazy curve of his lips turning upright as his gaze locks with mine, like he can sense me looking. The burn within my chest ignites into an inferno, my tongue tastes like embers and my fingertips lick Asra’s skin like flames. It’s so wonderful, it’s so good, I love the way his eyes dig into mine, I could bask in the heat and adoration flowing off of him in rivulets of spice and fire for hours.  _

_ “Is this what you want?” Asra’s voice sounds surprisingly hoarse, almost… wanting. I can’t help but shiver as I feel his breath buffet my heated skin, fanning the fire within. I find myself unable to answer, my lips are locked in a pant that’s coming from someplace that aches with some sort of want that I can’t begin to fathom or understand. All I know is that it aches in the best way an ache can ache. _

_ “Is this what you want?” His hands drag mine towards his back as he presses even closer. Our chests touch and my heart hammers. Suddenly his thigh wedges between mine and my breath hiccups so hard I almost choke on my own tongue at the proximity, but I don’t feel trapped against the wall like I thought I would; I feel enveloped in perfection. Pinned against the divine. Oh my God…  _

_ “Is this what you want?” Every inch of my throat is more sensitive than it’s ever been, I can  _ **_feel_ ** _ the heat of Asra’s tongue just above my pulse, so close, yet not quite touching, he’s pressed flush against me with his breath like dragonfire on my throat and I’m so close to drowning in it, I’m basking in the shining heat of the sun, the feeling of him right there but not quite, so close, he’s this close to touching me in some way I want so bad but just by that inaction he feels so far- _

_ “Is this what you want?”  _

I open my eyes with a harsh gasp as I awaken, the only sound besides the thunderous hammering of my heart in my ears. On instinct I sit up and look over to the other side of the bed, and upon seeing no Asra I check the kitchen/living room area beyond the beads but I don’t see Asra in there either. It seems I’m alone up here. 

I collapse on the bed again and cover my face with my hands, that inexplicable heat suddenly rising into my face and threatening to spill outwards like a cup filled too high with boiling rainwater. I have had dreams like what happened at the beginning ever since I left Thavuntis, they seem to haunt my sleep at every turn, always a little bit different than the last… but never before have I had an ending quite like that. Never before has Asra appeared in my dreams, and never in a manner so… so… intimate. That was a lot of new, and I have absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. 

Ever since this whole business with Ksasthra concluded something like… three months ago now, my thoughts on my long-term friend have started to… shift. Where I’d see him in an innocent light in the past, now his image has become tinted as if by rose-colored glass; normal things that he’s done in the past are now producing a strange reaction within me, like a sudden fever. At first I thought I was just getting sick, but that was debunked when I realized that these feelings are too dependent upon small, barely noticeable moments for it to be a disease of some kind. Then, I thought it was some sort of spring fever, also debunked when it started to become summer and the symptoms persisted, so now I’ve come to the realization that it’s something about my relationship with Asra… something about it is changing. 

And I have absolutely, positively no idea what I’m going to do about these feelings.

What  _ does  _ someone do in this situation? What is there to be done? Up until this moment I’d decided the move was to just ignore the feelings when they’re inconvenient and seeing where they lead, if they intensified or went away, the latter is kind of what I hoped simply for the ease of it. But, now Asra’s bled into my dreams, and that changes things. Now he’s in my subconscious, living in my memories, and breathing in my dreams as well as my everyday all-consuming thoughts. 

_ … This can’t be good.  _

I get up slowly, rubbing my shoulders as I quietly pad into the next room in search for breakfast. Warm, summer sunlight is streaming in through the windows, casting the room in soft hues of gold and auburn and the occasional kaleidoscope of color when a sunbeam happens upon the baubled beads in the curtain over the bedroom doorway. A sheath of white on the table catches my attention, resting next to a few coins on the wooden surface. As I approach I see a small strip of paper beneath the coins with Asra’s scratching script upon it:  _ ‘Went to see Muriel, see you when we return. -Asra & Faust P.S. The coins are for some pumpkin bread, if you so choose to use it for such. Try to save me a slice if you can~’ _

I smile at the coins and leave them on the counter, instead taking the slip of paper and putting it in my pocket. I didn’t have the intention of going out to get breakfast before, but now that I’m thinking about it the idea of pumpkin bread is making my mouth water, and suddenly nothing else seems quite as tantalizing.  _ Good idea. And a good walk through the street might help me clear my head after that dream…  _

I sweep Asra’s coin off the table and into my palm before walking down the steps and depositing it in the satchel behind the counter where we keep charm payment. Then, I head back upstairs to slip into fresh clothes before heading out, locking the door behind me with a cross-me-not as I head down towards the upper market.

The city streets bustle with morning activity the closer I get, and while normally slipping into the accumulating crowds puts me at anonymous ease I find instead that the noise is accentuating like thunderclouds in my skull; my skin starts to crawl, my thoughts start to buzz, it’s like those first few months in Vesuvia all over again where everything felt like too much, before I got used to being around so many people. I suppose it’s because I feel particularly sensitive everywhere, what’s just a bare brush from a stranger’s cloak feels suddenly much more intimate than that, a lingering gaze from an onlooker makes me wonder if they can see inside my thoughts and know what preoccupies them. Even though I know better, I keep seeing flashes of a colorful cloak that’s actually just a banner to a stall, locks of ghostly hair that turns out to be sunlight reflecting off of chimes. Whether or not it’s because I want to see him or because my mind’s playing such powerful tricks on me that I think I ought to I can’t tell, and I’m hesitant to delve down that mental path. 

So I don’t. I keep my gaze to the people, to the cobblestones, to the storefronts. 

Eventually I come to the baker’s shop on the far end of the main street of vendors who have begun to hawk their wares to the morning crowd. I remember I used to walk this path - though coming from the other direction - at this early time to search for Asra’s stall before I’d really known him… that must’ve been just under three years ago, now.  _ Wow. How time flies. _

I’m about to reach my three year anniversary of living in Vesuvia pretty soon, within the next week or so, and now thinking about how it was under three  _ years  _ ago that I was just getting to know Asra is completely bewildering. I feel like I’ve known Asra forever… I’ve grown so much since then. I’ve experienced more since then. Another six more years here, and I’ll have officially lived in Vesuvia longer than I’ve lived anywhere else… 

Do I want that? 

The baker’s stall is rather empty at the moment by some rare miracle, the heavenly smell of clove and fresh dough drift out the large open window into his kitchen nearly carries me as if borne on powerful winds to stand just outside, leaning my elbows on the wooden frame of the open window to peer within. Selasi stands with his thick back towards me, kneading at a pile of dough; his thick, tree limb-like arms and hands are covered in a fine layer of flour like winter’s first snowfall on fertile earth. When he senses someone hovering nearby he looks up and meets my gaze with an immediate smile, the warmth of his amicable attitude just like his oven as he nods his head in greeting, “Oh, Jamie! It’s good to see you, my friend!” 

I smile, I can’t help but smile when I’m near such pleasant company. “Good morning, Selasi, how are you?” 

Selasi shrugs as he flips the dough over, kneading it with his knuckles into clumps of flour on his smoothed wooden counter as he responds, “It’s a little slow so far, but I bet that will change once it starts getting towards lunch time.” He glances up at me again as he works the dough, adding with a softer, more affectionate aside afterwards, “Are you alright, Jamie? You look a little… dazed. Have you been sleeping poorly?” 

I frown and fold my arms slightly closer to my chest where I was leaning on the windowsill, idly glancing around me. No one is close to Selasi’s bakery right now, most people seem to be moving quickly through the streets to get to where they need to be, so it’s unlikely anyone will overhear me or become annoyed if I preoccupy the baker’s ear. “Truth be told, I haven’t been sleeping well, no.” I answer honestly, letting my shoulders sag a little as I thumb a coin and then place it on the counter. “I came here for two loaves of pumpkin bread and advice, if you’d be willing to lend your hand and ear.” 

Selasi glances over at me, his gaze lingering on my expression before he nods, “I’ll see what I can offer, though I doubt that there’s much I can tell you, I’m just a baker. I just put a fresh batch in the oven, it’ll be a little while so why don’t you get comfortable and tell me what’s on your mind?” He gestures outside, towards where the seats are located just a bit aways from the window, as he turns his back to me to tend to his oven. 

Excitedly I pull on one of the iron grated seats and situate it at the window, making sure it’s pushed to the side in case anyone else wanted to walk up and purchase something but so that I can sit and lean my head and elbow into the window without having to stand the whole time. “Thank you.” I hum appreciatively. 

“Any time.” The baker responds with a smile. He starts to gather what appear to be ingredients for some sort of sweet treat as he glances over at me, “So, what seems to be the problem?”

I let out a soft huff.  _ Where to begin?  _ “So ah… you know Asra?” 

He nods and smiles, “‘Course I do, you two are inseparable! At least when he’s not travelling. He just got back from a trip, hasn’t he?” 

I nod. “About a month and a half ago.” 

Selasi makes a noise of understanding before muttering with a pensive aside, “And he’s the one who brought you here for the first time, wasn’t he? When was that what… three years ago or something now?” When I nod again with a soft laugh he suddenly tosses me a wide-eyed, terrified look, “Oh no, you two didn’t have a falling out, did you?” 

I quickly shake my head, “No, no! That’s actually what I’m trying to avoid.” Selasi raises an eyebrow, prompting me to continue with a look of  _ now you have my attention _ . I sigh and run a hand along the ridges of my braid over my shoulder as I speak to the wall of ingredients within the bakery, “You see… I’m unsure how or why, but I’ve started to feel… strangely, about him. I keep finding myself thinking about him more often than before, and… I can’t quite explain it. And ever since he got back from his trip I can’t help but feel like that these feelings are just getting stronger and stronger, and I’m not sure if they’re okay or if they will make him uncomfortable if he knew of them.” 

“I see.” Selasi hums, starting to mix together a series of ingredients for his next batch of goodies. “What kind of feelings are these?” 

I feel my cheeks begin to rise in an unseemly color as I mutter, “I’m not sure. I’ve never had anything like them before… I think they’re positive. When he looks at me, I suddenly get flushed and flustered, it’s like I suddenly catch a hay fever but only when he’s around. I’m more aware of everything that he does, small things or big things, it doesn’t matter. They make me feel good, I suppose, but in a strange way. Like… I feel this sharp warmth in my chest that spreads everywhere and makes my heart feel heavy and light all at once. I’ve always felt this way in some respect, but it’s more… powerful now. And what else is new now is that sometimes I feel this… heat. It’s… embarrassing. And har- I mean difficult to explain.” I cover half of my face with my hand as I rest my chin in my palm, knowing my face and neck are as red as the flames in Selasi’s oven. 

Selasi glances over at me and laughs so heartily that even though a heavy weight rests on my chest like a sack of gold, I can’t help but feel the pressure alleviate a little from my shoulders. “Jamie, may I ask, how old are you?” 

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “... 20? I’ll be 21 in the winter.” 

Selasi’s eyes crinkle with delight, “No offense kid, but has no one ever given you the talk about the birds and the bees?”

I blink stupidly. “The what?” 

Selasi shakes his head with a soft chuckle as he rumbles on, periodically mixing ingredients into a large bowl, “You know, the beast with two backs? The facts of life? The roll in the hay?” 

I flush as one of these strange phrases strikes with familiarity. I huff as my face begins to burn even redder than before, “Yes I’ve had the hay talk! I had it when I was fourteen, thank you very much.” Selasi holds his hands up in surrender as the defensive rise of my hackles settle when confusion takes its place. “What does how I feel about Asra have anything to do with that? I don’t want children. Kids have nothing to do with it! … I don’t think that we can even  _ have  _ children, like, logistically speaking-” 

Selasi cuts me off quickly with a wave of his hand, accidentally scattering sugar on his table, “No, no, this has nothing to do with that part. I’m talking about the  _ attraction  _ part. The romantic part, the sexuality part.” I blink at him stupidly, and when he sees me doing this he elaborates gently, “Okay, let me ask this… Do you feel like you care for Asra? More than before?”

Immediately I shake my head. “I’ve cared about Asra for a long time. I was willing to sacrifice a lot in order to spend time with him from the very beginning, I would never have done that with someone I didn’t care about.”

Selasi nods to himself with a rather secretive smile that I don’t quite understand as he stirs his concoction. The scent of pumpkin and spices starts to rise in the air as the bread bakes, and it’s making my stomach  _ groan.  _ “Then what’s changed?” He asks finally.

I stare at his broad shoulders dumbly for a long while before I can get my tongue to work for me again. “... I… I’m not sure. They’re just… stronger, now. With an added layer of… intensity, I guess you could say.” 

The baker continues what he does best, adding a dash of some dark liquid to his recipe that fills the already heavenly air with the scent of vanilla as my thoughts churn just like butter. He looks back at me for a moment after I finish speaking and prods further, “So, what seems to be the problem? Are you worried he doesn’t feel the same?”

I furrow my eyebrows and slightly shake my head. “I haven’t really taken that into consideration. That’s- I mean to say, that’s not what I’m worried about. I can’t control how Asra feels. It’s just… I don’t know what it means to feel this way about someone. Asra’s the only person I’ve ever known who has liked me and purposefully stuck by me even when things were hard, and I’m scared of things going wrong and I lose what we already have because what we already have is so… good.” 

My throat tightens as more tangible anxiety seems to manifest on my tongue, slowly sliding deeper as I mutter in a softer voice, mostly to myself, “I… I also don’t want for these new feelings to make him uncomfortable, either. I don’t want him to think I see him as prey or…” I look off to the side as my shoulders slightly fall, that darkness within swelling in my throat, “I worry I come off as someone who can’t control themselves… especially after something that happened relatively recently. I… I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, and now that I’m thinking about him in this manner I’m scared that I… I don’t want him to accidentally hurt him. I’m scared I’m  _ going to _ accidentally hurt him.” I let out a sigh and hang my head slightly as I groan, “I don’t want to be scared.” 

“Ah, kid…” I raise my head when the baker addresses me, meeting his gaze where he hovers just in front of me with a cloth in his hands. He wipes his hands with it and then pats my arm in a gentle, consoling manner before he turns back towards his counter. “I’ve known you for a while now. And I’ve known Asra for longer.” Selasi murmurs, his back slightly to me as he speaks to his sweets, almost pensively so, “I’ve seen the way you two interact with each other. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and the way you look at him.” He glances over his shoulder at me, an odd, shimmering twinkle in his dark, friendly eyes as he hums, “When you two came and ate some bread here a week ago, you two looked at each other the exact same way that you looked at one another three years ago when he brought you here for the first time.” 

I raise an eyebrow at this, entranced into silence as Selasi moves over to the oven. He’s silent as he checks on the bread within, wafting more of that divine scent into the atmosphere before he turns back around with scarlet mitts on his fingers to protect himself from the heat of the piping fresh pumpkin bread. He escorts it, two loaves of it, onto a soft cloth before depositing it into a basket, which he delivers to me, resting it on the windowsill. 

“Here’s your bread… and here’s your advice.” He holds up a finger as I stand and hold the basket handle, looking at him with wide eyes as he speaks with a husky voice that’s rough and comforting like a familiar blanket, “Tell him how you feel. What he says in response may surprise you… and you may find that you two have far more in common than you think. Being authentic with one another and communicating openly will do nothing but help you so long as you’re both coming from a place of understanding.”

I stare at the weaving of the basket, processing his words just like how I savor his outstanding bread. “But what if I say it all wrong? What if-” 

“You can never know if you never try.” Selasi interrupts me before I can properly express myself, stifling me a little as I instead purse my lips and look down at the covered bread in the basket. With an apologetic sigh the baker rests his hand on my shoulder, drawing my gaze to his, “I’m not saying it will be easy. It most certainly won’t be, it’s hard to be vulnerable with someone. When you are ready and prepared… a conversation’s the best way to go. At least, from my perspective.” He smiles at me and turns away as he starts to pour the mixture he was working on into a pan, “But what do I know? I’m just a baker.”

Though stunned, I manage to crack a smile, “You’re incredibly wise, Selasi.” I murmur after a time, tightening my grip on the bread basket. “Thank you for this. I greatly appreciate it.” 

“Send Asra my regards.” Selasi bids goodbye with a friendly wave as I take the basket off the windowsill, dragging the iron gated seat back to its original place before I head home, digesting his words with each step on the cobblestones. 

_ Tell him how you feel. What he says in response may surprise you.  _

I walk into the shop and head upstairs to the table. Still no Asra yet, even as the sun climbs into the sky. 

_ You may find that you two have far more in common than you think.  _

I sit down and set one loaf of bread aside on the stove for him before getting some milk to have with my bread. I eat my breakfast slowly, savoring the warmth of the fresh bread. I look outside the window to the cobblestones below, the shop a center of tranquility and silence on the quiet street corner.

_ Being authentic with one another and communicating openly will do nothing but help you so long as you’re both coming from a place of understanding. _

I open the shop once I’m finished eating. I organize the charms on the shelves for something to do as I mull in my thoughts, quiet and pensive. 

_ You can never know if you never try. _

I finish the ones on the shelves and move to the counter to organize them as well. Thinking about Selasi’s words.

_ … Oh my God.  _

I drop a charm I was holding, its wooden frame hitting the floor with a  _ clunk  _ as realization strikes me upside the head. 

_ That’s why he referenced the hay talk.  _

_ I… Selasi thinks I’m becoming attracted to Asra on a level that goes beyond friendship. Something like…  _

It’s hard to believe, but the more I think about it, the more complicated this revelation becomes. In the north, romantic relationships are depicted differently than they are in Vesuvia. I’d never paid any attention to any of it when I was north because I didn’t care about the people it was happening with, I was a little busy trying to stay safe and fed and clothed in the day to day, I didn’t have time for romance. But that being said, the difference is still stark because northern people are more… private about physical affection. When I first got to Vesuvia, I recall in the first few weeks I saw a couple kissing gleefully for multiple, heated seconds in public, I remember it because afterwards I wondered immediately what the hell kind of city I was in. It was another one of those little cultural shocks like Vesuvian fashion was, but this one was easier to digest because it involved other people, not me. I’ve never had these feelings, so these things didn’t apply to me. 

Though… I also have never befriended anyone long enough for me to investigate or explore that kind of attraction with. But… no, no, that’s silly. Before this time in my life I can’t think of a single person I would’ve done that with. I wouldn’t have wanted to with someone I didn’t care about, and Asra’s the first true friend I’ve ever had - Master Garmel was more like a father figure - with Muriel coming just after. No one comes close to Asra in terms of emotional connection. No one comes close to Asra period. He’s… different. In the best, safest way possible. It’s what made me want to be his friend because his difference makes him special. He’s special. He’s kind, and he’s sweet, and he’s beautiful, and he’s…

_ … Perhaps Selasi had a point.  _

_ Maybe… Should I tell him, then? Should I tell Asra that I like him as more than a friend?  _

_ Oh God, should I? _

I jump violently when the little bell over the front door jingles and Asra lets himself in. He spots me and smiles brightly like the gentle rays of the moon are trapped in his visage as he closes the door behind him, “Hey, there you are! Come on, I’ve got a…?” He trails off when he sees my wide-eyed expression, his brows furrow as he approaches. He bends over between us and picks up the charm I’d dropped, turning it over in his hand before he meets my gaze with a worried gleam in his lovely lavender eyes, “Jamie, are you alright?”

Fire erupts in my chest and smoke floats through my throat and into my head to cloud my thoughts. _ When you are ready and prepared… a conversation’s the best way to go.  _

_ I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet. _

“Yes! Yes, I’m fine, sorry Asra, you just startled me.” I laugh awkwardly as I take the charm out of Asra’s hand and put it where I’d intended to on the counter. “How was your visit with Muriel?” 

Asra pauses, his gaze lingers on mine for a long while in a searching manner before he nods when he found what he was looking for. “It was wonderful. It’s always good to see him.” He takes a step closer then and leans on the counter beside me, and my entire body seems to shiver with a silent hum of internal energy as he continues in a lower tenor to his sweet voice, “What do you say we go out tonight? I’ve got an idea for something special… I think you’ll like it.”

My thoughts start to race a mile a minute at what  _ special  _ might mean when Asra says it, and trying to reel them in while also trying to ensure my gaze stays rooted in Asra’s rather than drifting elsewhere is proving difficult. “That sounds wonderful! What are you planning?” I manage to say without hitching on my words. 

Asra smiles mysteriously, a moonlit gleam in his eye as his lips turn upwards into a bemused, elegant curve, “It’s a surprise… A little adventure of sorts. I want to see if you can figure it out as we go.” 

I smile back at him, simply unable to resist matching his enthusiasm as I break away and head up the stairs to retrieve my satchel. “So mysterious. What’s the special occasion?”

“That’s what you have to figure out.” Asra calls from below as I get my things, when I return he ushers me out the door of the shop after we switch the sign to CLOSED. He locks the door with a cross-me-not behind him before he turns to me and leads me down the street, heading towards the market. 

“... If you so choose to accept the challenge, there will be a prize at the end.” His voice is amused, suave and playful. It makes the back of my neck feel unusually warm. 

I purse my lips thoughtfully as we go, though it’s hard to think about what this challenge could be while so conscious of his presence beside me, of our arms moving in tandem that the possibility of our hands brushing is not unlikely. “Well now you’ve really got me interested… It looks like we’re headed towards the market. I already got you a loaf of pumpkin bread from Selasi on the second floor, you know.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me curiously and smiles rather broadly in response, “Aww, did you really? Heh, lucky me.” He looks down at our feet as he continues to beam, his fingertips straightening the front of his wine colored scarf draped over his shoulder. After a moment he seems to pull out of his own thoughts to shake his head at me, “No, that’s not where we’re going. We’re headed to the first of our many stops this evening.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him in curiosity, “Many?” 

With a wave of his hand in my direction Asra placates me with a sheepish addition, “Not too many… but a few.” 

The sun is beginning its descent in the sky at this point, the hues of twilight aren’t close to happening just yet but the blue of the sky is deeper than it was an hour ago as we make it to market street. It’s packed with shoppers, people coming to and fro in bustling herds, weaving like snakes between the temporary stalls; it’s prime shopping time for most people, now until the sun sets. Asra guides me through them, though as we start to get lost in the midst of the greatest part of the crowd he reaches towards me and gently laces our fingers together so we don’t get lost. 

Immediately I feel the thrum of his magic embracing and encircling mine, leaving my knees suddenly weak and my breath shallow as my own emerges from the woodwork and pulses outwards like my whole being is a heart that races just like mine does. Asra seems to sense this, as he looks back at me briefly while we’re traveling through the crowd and even despite the overarching noise of the street I can hear his intimate voice murmuring to me, “Your magic has been so potent recently… you’re practically glowing.” His lips curve into a graceful grin and his gaze lingers on mine with a mist of mauve affection as he continues so softly I barely hear him, “It’s a beautiful sight.” 

My throat constricts and my breathing shallows as a sudden, burning heat in my chest bursts forth like a wellspring of fire, igniting my skin and making my fingertips warm with the flames. “Flatterer.” I grumble, unsure of what else to say. 

“Is it flattery if it’s the truth?” He pulls on my hand to aid me in getting out of the way of a moving cart trying to push its way down the street, sticking close to my side as we continue to walk. 

“I-... Er…” My voice fails me when I need it, eliciting a joyful chuckle from Asra as my face continues to flush like a rosebush. I don’t get another chance to save my pride when he stops then at an empty stall, abandoned and rather decrepit at the very end of the line of stalls on this street. There’s less people here, so we can stand without fear of being jostled, but as I look around to see why we’ve stopped I find him looking at the counter with a fond, faraway expression. “What’s this?” I ask, regarding him with a confused look. 

Asra glances over at me, a twinkle of amusement and memory in his eye as he gestures to the side of the stall, “Do you know where we are?” 

I follow his finger and see a hole in the front of the stall, usually the wooden bar that allows entry into the stall would be here but at this stall it seems to have disappeared entirely… as if it was broken off. I look up and around with wide eyes as the tickle of memory begins to itch and burst with color like a raspberry popped onto my tongue before I gasp in revelation, “This is where we met, when I fell into your stall!” 

Asra nods, smiling brightly as he steps inside. It’s fallen to ill repair, probably because no one replaced the door so no one wanted the stall anymore, but the counter remains as well as the shelves beneath it, though the overhanging banner is gone with the remains of the door. “I was selling the masks Muriel and I made for the Masquerade when Nadia’s carriage came down the street. Before she was the Countess, when she was one of the princesses from Prakra.”

I mirror him, moving to stand where I would have fallen as I turn about with an excited rattle, “I remember! Not the bit with Nadia, I don’t stay updated on politics, but I remember her carriage. I got shoved by the crowd and fell. Smashed right through the door latch.” I point to where it once was, chuckling as I turn to face Asra once more, “That was an embarrassing first impression. I have no idea what inspired you to befriend me after that.” Asra’s gaze sheepishly casts to the side, a lovely crimson adorning his features as I let my hands fall to rest on the uncared for wood, “May I ask why you brought me here, now?”

Asra smiles with an enigmatic glint in his eye, “Why do you think?” 

I pause, furrowing my eyebrows as I will my thoughts to coalesce. Why bring me to the place we met? It’s important to us, of course, but… why now? Is there something significant… When it strikes me I gasp and snap my fingers at Asra, “The Masquerade is happening in about a month… Are we celebrating three years of friendship?” 

Asra’s head tilts slightly to the side as his gaze flickers across my features before he shakes his head with a chuckle, “That’s… interesting that that’s what you immediately thought of. But no, not quite, though you’re very close.” He settles his hand just over mine where it rests on the counter, nearly shocking me when our magics brush in such a raw and intimate manner that my head spins as he continues like nothing happened, “You told me before that you settled down here in the summer, but before the Masquerade. So right around now would be the third anniversary of your life beginning in Vesuvia.” Asra’s face starts to turn a little red as he looks down at the counter beside him, his voice dropping to a more quiet tenor as he hums, “I remember you said you’d never been in one place for too long before. So I thought… since this is the first summer we’ve had together without…” He turns a fiercer shade of scarlet before he quickly continues like he didn’t just hitch on his words, “I mean, I thought we could celebrate it. You being here, I mean.” 

My heart is an old oak and Asra’s words are a lightning bolt striking its branches, flame blooms outwards from the blast and make my cheeks and neck erupt in heat. “Oh Asra…” I touch a hand to my mouth, breathless to the point my ribs begin to hurt before I manage to find the words to speak again with rapid intakes of breath, “That’s…! That’s so unbelievably sweet of you! You’re so thoughtful I’m…!” Unable to express myself properly, I reach out and envelop him in a tight hug with my arms thrown around his shoulders. But before he can hug back I quickly pull away, mostly out of fear of what will happen if I’m completely enveloped in his touch. It’s too good in the small doses, I’m wary of growing too bold and reaching for more of a touch that I have no right to ask for. 

It’s for the best as well, for as I pull away I realize that I was just about to crush Faust, who has raised her head out of Asra’s tunic to look at me incredulously. “Oh, sorry Faust!” I give her an apologetic smile and a little head scritch, which seems to placate her initial ire as she returns to the folds of Asra’s clothing with a flick of her tongue. As my mind starts to wander underneath them as well, I snap my attention back to the subject at hand. “So wait, what else did you have planned?” 

Asra flushes a little with his hands slightly raised towards me, a few seconds away from landing on my waist before he changes his mind and returns them to his side - I’m both simultaneously relieved and disappointed and I don’t know how to feel about that - until after a moment he answers, “I thought we’d go to the different places that hold our shared memories. I don’t know everything about your time in Vesuvia, but I do know about what we’ve done together, so I thought we could… travel down memory road together.” He trails off, looking sheepish and embarrassed. 

Quickly I take his hands at his sides and squeeze them encouragingly, “Asra, that sounds wonderful. Please, lead on!” I throw a hand out towards the broken gateway, turning back to him to give him an excited, entirely genuine smile that seems to originate in my soul and sprout like spring flowers onto my lips. 

Asra smiles back, though his face is still red, his shoulders are more square; he seems more certain of himself and his confidence only grows when his warm, slender fingers lace with mine. “... Alright.” He responds, the energy between us humming like the heart of a pipe organ as he regards me with amicable warmth, “Onward, then.” 

The next place Asra takes me is back up to the top tier of Vesuvia. When we come to a stop, it’s right outside the gates of the palace, in the massive street ring that goes around it. There are a few high end vendor carts here, but it’s largely abandoned. “Why here?” I ask, turning around in circles as I try to find something recognizable. 

“When you saw me after our first meeting, you gave me tickets to come to your show.” Asra prompts to jog my memory. “The comedy, the one that was also your first time dancing on stage?” 

I gasp as I recall, “Oh yes! I nearly wore myself out using my magic to make myself more flexible…” I gaze at the cobblestones surrounding us, and suddenly out of the deep recesses of my memories I recall a song, spirited and lively. As I slowly turn in the space I can almost imagine the movement of bodies around me, the energy of the atmosphere thrumming with tangible enthusiasm. “... After the show you took me here to see what the pre-Masquerade was like, before the actual Masquerade started.” I grin wickedly as I suddenly whirl towards him, “You cheated at that dart game and won my peryton.” 

Asra’s smile broadens as he laughs before he suddenly blinks at me, I can see the wheels turning in his mind as his lips slowly part, “... The peryton that’s sometimes on the windowsill… the one you put there. Is… is that the same one?” 

I laugh softly with a swift nod, “Of course it is! That’s one of the few gifts I’ve ever been given, I treasure it as if it were my child.” 

Nothing gives me quite as much pleasure as watching Asra’s face slowly turn a dark carmine, his gaze flits to the side as he seems to lose all power to his thoughts and merely shuts down as he attempts to digest his information. I move on to save him from any further embarrassment, “It was really fun, I loved that night. I wished that I could go to the actual Masquerade every year since, because if that was just the pre-party… The actual party must be amazing.” I gesture to the iron gates surrounding the palace, the side walk just before it barren save for the dust in the wind, “I also remember that street fight that broke out that night while we were dancing. I hadn’t felt so alive in quite some time.” 

Asra seems to snap out of whatever dreamlike state he was in to laugh at this, his dimples illuminating his joy like gemstones, “I can’t believe you thought that was entertaining.” He holds out his hand all of a sudden then, giddy amusement still plainly evident on his features as he murmurs, “Shall we relive the night with a dance?”

I blink stupidly at him before I look at the empty square around us. “But there’s no music?” 

“Can’t you hear it?” He beckons his fingers towards me, inviting me to take his hand. 

Cautiously I do, and as soon as we touch his magic tingles and sparks in my lifeblood and for a moment I swear I can hear the faint, indistinct sounds of music, that very same song that played that night. As I focus on it, I realize that it’s no sound at all, rather it’s like I’m thinking about the song itself in a more tangible sense, dancing between Asra’s magic and mine.

I let out a soft breath of amazement, “How are you doing that…?” 

Right as I conclude my words Asra gently pulls me closer by the waist, short circuiting my every function. He regards me with a raised eyebrow to ensure I’m alright with the touch before he starts to gently sway, it’s half as fast as the tempo of the music but it feels right, it feels natural. To a random passerby I know we’d look ridiculous, slowly dancing to no music… but for once, I find myself not caring if someone saw me doing something strange because I’m doing it with Asra. Nothing feels wrong when it’s with Asra. 

“I’m projecting the memory between us through our magic.” Asra answers me with a soft whisper, one of his hands gliding to hold one of mine while the other remains on the small of my back, guiding me in the movements. 

Completely absorbed in feeling Asra’s body against mine I completely forgot what question I had asked that Asra is answering. “I’m sorry?” 

“That’s how I’m sharing the song with you.” He chuckles with amusement, his dimples coming out from hiding as he grins at me, “It’s not the actual memory… but I’m able to project how I remember it to you when our magic is intertwined like this.” He guides me about in a swaying circle as the song plays for us alone, a memory of a memory, faint and quiet but clearly audible in my mind’s ear. 

I smile a little and squeeze his hand in mine as we float about in the empty courtyard. When I close my eyes I can see the colorful lights strung in the air between buildings and across the iron fence, the hundreds of dancing bodies swirling around us, intangible but as real to me as the beautiful person in my arms.  _ Oh.  _

“I thought for certain you’d be scared…” I focus my eyes to meet Asra’s open gaze dwelling on mine, he’s fixing me with a pensive, teasing look, like a pleased cat with fresh prey, “When the fights broke out. But I know you better now…” He draws me a little closer as he turn in the square, I allow him to guide me as his voice drops to a more intimate whisper, “I know now that you’re truly fearless, Jamie.” 

I feel my throat tighten with a sudden wave of new heat, but I don’t allow myself to linger on it. Quickly I shake my head, I start talking without too much thought behind my words, “I’m hardly fearless, let me assure you, it’s just that the things I fear are intangible. I can protect myself from a fist, from a knife or otherwise. Those things are easily understandable, I can wrap my head around  _ real  _ threats. It’s harder to defend myself from something abstract, like intentions, or time. I can’t understand them as easily… so they tend to scare me.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me curiously, his thumb brushing along my ribcage as his hand climbs a little higher and to my side as we dance to our own music. Because it’s in our heads I have no problem hearing Asra even when his voice is as soft as this, “When have those things frightened you?” 

I shake my head slightly, mostly to get away from the cobwebs of the past that threaten to cling to my thoughts as I also disengage from Asra’s arms, “More often than you think.” Asra’s arms return to his side as the song fades from my thoughts with our separation, and although I could probably dance in this abandoned square all day with Asra I don’t want to keep us from what else he has planned. “Okay… What’s next?” 

The post-afternoon quickly melts into evening as Asra takes me throughout the city, returning to places we’ve been before and have some sort of significant memory to us. He takes me to the sweet shop on market street where I discovered chocolate meringues for the first time and ate so many I became sick off of them (he’d laughed endlessly all night while taking care of me, he’d laughed the whole time we were at the shop, too despite how red I became). He takes me to the corner down the way where Asra almost got into an altercation with a fortune teller stationed there because they’d said the Death Arcana meant the subject was going to die in ten days. Then the pub where I had my first alcoholic drink and made a fool of myself dancing on a table (apparently, I still don’t remember that, but he and a few patrons did). He even took me to the ivy-grown wall on the massive stairwell leading towards the docks. He said that when he passes it he thinks of me because it was here where we would always part when he started living in the shop and I was still living in South End.

By the time the sun had set and the lamps were long since lit, he starts to lead me towards the outskirts of the city, though not in the direction we usually go to visit Muriel. We’re headed more towards the upper parts of South End, where the rivers give away to the aqueducts and maintenance stations the higher we climb, until the streetlights are near scarce and we have to rely on Asra’s magic orbs to light the way. “Asra?” I ask as he leads me up another set of winding stairs, the sound of rushing water our only companion, “I’ve never been to this part of the city before.” 

Asra glances back at me with a mischievous, knowing look as he retorts, “Neither have I.” 

I blink at him stupidly, “... Then why are we going up here?”

Asra flashes me a smile as he starts to climb up a wooden ladder leaning against the side of a building, “Your prize, of course!” 

He continues on without another word of explanation. Realizing I have no luck trying to question him before he’s ready to divulge, I decide to wait and see what he has planned. Asra guides us both onwards and upwards until we arrive to the top of an aqueduct, nothing but the stone beneath our feet and the city spiraling below us, but that’s not what draws my immediate attention. 

What I see, what I’m swallowed in, are the stars, the multitude of the cosmos stretching over our heads, dizzying, deep, fathomless depths, freckles of galaxies and astral bodies for miles and miles and miles beyond our heads. I didn’t realize how little often I’ve looked up since coming to the city, how this is the first time I’ve seen the night sky in its full glory since I came south, for it’s impossible to in the dense forest or in the night-lit streets of Vesuvia. I look back down after craning my neck up and see the city stretched out below, each street light mirroring a star above like a reflection off of a lake. We’re far up enough that we can see most of the city, but not so tall that we dwarf the palace.

Asra has taken a seat on the edge of this part of the aqueduct, watching me with a hidden smile as I digest the scene before me. “What do you think?” He asks softly, tilting his head to the side as he regards me with a soft expression.

I let out a soft breath of disbelief, slowly sliding to sit on the edge of the stone next to Asra and letting my feet hang down as my gaze returns to the breathtaking night sky. “I didn’t think it was possible to see the sky like this in the city… This is absolutely breathtaking.” I glance back to Asra and find his gaze already on me, it causes me to balk but only for a moment before I can get my tongue working again, “How did you know of this place?” 

Asra’s lips part in a slight smile as he shifts to sit on the edge beside me, his hands resting behind him as he tilts his head back and towards the sky, illuminating the caramel skin of his throat in the light of the heavens. “One of the court’s engineer came in for a reading and in exchange he told me about a wonderful spot to see the stars.” 

When he doesn’t offer anymore information I prod him a little with my elbow, “Alright, well, then what about the theme? You nor I have ever been here before.” 

“We haven’t.” Asra confirms, his gaze listing away now from the night sky instead to the city below. He lets out a soft breath of thought as he speaks with an intimate hum, “We thoroughly revisited the past for certain, but… Celebrating your stay in the city for three years is more than thinking back on what’s happened in that time. As much as we both enjoyed the nostalgia.” He adds this with a teasing aside before his head tilts to the side in thought, “I also wanted to think about more than three. A fourth, fifth year we can spend together… a future.” He glances over at me then and my heart nearly strangles me alive as his lavender eyes dance like shooting stars in the low light, his voice deadly serious and endearing in every facet I can imagine, “The best way I thought to move into the future is to go somewhere that neither of us have been to… to make new memories together. So…” He gestures around us with a free hand, smiling a little sheepishly afterwards as his voice drops to a bare whisper I hardly catch, “Is that selfish of me, to think about it in those terms?” 

I stare at Asra for a long time. It could be hours, minutes, a blink of an eye, I haven’t the faintest clue how long I sit there, barely breathing, my chest constricted by the fires of the furnace in my belly. I stare at the soft curls of starry hair cresting his brow and around his cheeks, the curve of his lips in a slight, thoughtful frown, the fan of his eyelashes across his cheeks and outlining the beautiful light of his eyes like fields of lavender, fields I want to dance in through the night and into the days and weeks after.

In that moment Selasi’s voice comes to me, speaking words of wisdom,  _ ‘When you are ready and prepared… a conversation’s the best way to go. Tell him how you feel.’ _

_ … Oh, fuck it. It’s now or never. _

I turn to face Asra fully, crossing my legs beneath me as I swallow down my fear and summon forth as much courage as I can physically muster. “Asra, I need to talk to you.”

His soft, starlit eyes widen as he looks over at me, a sudden sombre aura settling over him as he tilts his head to face me more fully, “What’s the matter?” 

_ … On second thought, this might have been a mistake.  _

_ No, I can’t back down now, I already took that first step… I have to commit. Don’t be afraid. Asra is my friend at the end of the day, an understanding one. If this goes south then it won’t be as bad as it could be.  _

I swallow on my tongue to get it to work properly. “Ah…” I flicker my gaze across his features before I become so quickly overwhelmed with the knowledge that I have his undivided attention that I have to take another settling breath before I can truly begin, “It’s more like… I need to tell you something. I need to come clean.” 

Asra’s brows slowly to begin to furrow in confusion. “... Okay…?” 

_ You can do this. Just say it.  _ I seal my eyes tight.  _ Just say it out loud. Come on, Jamie.  _ **_Say it._ ** “I like you, Asra.” 

There’s silence, and worried that he might misinterpret what I’m saying I quickly keep going with hitching words, “I-I mean, more than just as a friend. Not that I don’t want to be your friend! Not at all, no, I like being friends with you! What I mean is… for a while now I’ve started feeling… more than just friendly. Like… kind of…”  _ All that’s good in the world, preserve me.  _ “... Romantically… I guess you could say…”

More silence. It hangs horribly over my thoughts and keeps my eyes squeezed shut until suddenly the space between us rings with a melodic laugh. I blink in shock, peering now at Asra’s laughing face as he’s bent almost in half, holding his stomach with absolute amusement. As he does this I notice Faust, unhappy with the rapid movement, slither out from his scarf and curl up on the edge of the aqueduct to look down at the city for her own sightseeing adventure. Asra props a foot just beneath him as his laughter dwindles, a lingering smile stretched across his features as he rests his elbow on his knee. Furious about the lack of response and blushing redder than a posie, I huff indignantly, “What’s so funny?!” 

Asra crinkles his nose a little with a final chuckle, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye before he turns and faces me fully. “For how long?” He asks simply. He doesn’t sound any different than usual, his voice is the same as always like he ask’s asking me about my thoughts on the weather. 

I blink dumbly for a moment before I’m able to digest the question, awkwardly I run a hair down the curves of my braid hanging over my shoulder as I mutter, “Ah… A while, now. Since you came back from your trip.” 

“I see.” Asra murmurs softly, his gaze cast down at our conjoined hands between us. I swallow, unsure of what else to say but I don’t need to just yet as Asra speaks again, “Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

My face now lives in a perpetual state of crimson plating. “I… At first I never said anything because I had no idea what was happening to me. I’ve never felt the way I do for you towards anyone else before, and you are the greatest friend I’ve ever had so I was scared of what it meant for my feelings to be evolving like they did because it just kept getting…  _ stronger.”  _ I rub my arms uncertainly, unsure of how else to put it.  _ Is this how it’s supposed to go? This feels torturously awkward. _

Asra rests his palms on his knees, his head tilted to the side with a pensive light like I just posed a difficult philosophical question to him. “So why did you tell me now?” He asks, his voice soft and sweet. So sweet. 

“Because of all this!” I wave my arms out wide to the aqueduct we find ourselves on top of. “This was so incredibly thoughtful of you! How could I not want to tell you about the extent of my feelings when you’ve done so much for me? Not just tonight, but so many nights, every night since I’ve known you.” I flush a little in embarrassment as Asra’s eyes grow only wider, my tongue starts to get away with me but I let it happen because I was at first concerned with saying too much, but now I want to make sure I say enough. “You’re just… you’re just such a great person, Asra. I’ve always thought so. And now I can barely touch you without feeling like my skin’s about to burst into flames, look at you without my tongue getting tied because how I feel gets so caught in my throat. I can’t believe I was so lucky to get to know you, and now… I wasn’t originally ever going to say anything to you because I was scared- no, I’m still pretty scared… frankly terrified, actually… that I’m making a horrible mistake.” 

Asra’s eyebrows furrow slightly at me as his hands reach out and touch mine, his thumbs begin to gently rub the back of my hand along the ridges of my knuckles as he murmurs, “Why do you feel like it’s a mistake?” 

I shake my head a little, pulling my hands out of his grip to instead cup my face in my hands as I squeeze my eyes shut, “It’s… You’re going to think I’m being ridiculous, but you’ll just have to take my word for it when… Agh. I’m scared of telling you how I feel because if you didn’t return how I felt I’d be devastated, but if you I  _ did _ feel the same way back… I would want to be with you.” 

Silence. “... Well, that doesn’t sound so bad-” 

“-But the thing is, you deserve to be with someone better than me.” I exhale with a rough tear through my chest, like the air is being crushed between a boulder and an ancient tree. “I’m not a good person. I’ve done horrible things, I-I… I’ve hurt people. And I’m not proud of that, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did. You’re… so kind to me, Asra. Too kind.” My voice has dropped to a hoarse whisper at this point as I cover my eyes with my palms, hiding both from Asra’s stare as well as myself. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you just because I’m being selfish. I want you to have the best, and I’m uncertain that’s me.” 

“Jamie,” I gasp quietly when soft, gentle hands take mine where they covered my face, pulling them down and into the space between us once more. Quiet. Hovering, faraway laughter from the streets far below from rowdy patrons leaving one of the pubs. “Would you look at me, please?” 

Slowly but surely I blink, my eyes adjusting to the muted darkness before I manage to see Asra as if for the first time. He’s leaning closer to me, holding both of my hands in between his, and once I’m meeting his lilac gaze he speaks with quiet, utter seriousness, “Jamie, I like you, too.” My breath stops, stalls, gives out as one of Asra’s hands glide up my arm and to my jawline, he gently cups my cheek as he continues in a low, intimate hum, “I’ve liked you for a long time as well. Longer even than you could know… Do you know why I’m telling you now?” 

I shake my head slightly. Even though Asra’s touching me and his magic essence is coalescing with mine like rope being braided together, my mind has never been so clear as this moment when I try to comprehend what is being said. “Because I want you to know that there’s nothing to be scared of. How you feel is understandable, but I don’t want you to be afraid to express yourself with me… Regardless of the nature of what you want to express.” 

I blink. Once. Twice. Three times. “... Wait a moment, you like me, too?” 

Asra’s hand on my cheek slips to my shoulder as he lets out a loud laugh, his shoulders shake as his fingertips dance on my shoulder, “Yes, Jamie, I like you, too. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it before now… I haven’t exactly been subtle.” 

Cherries look like their blossoms in comparison to how red my face is. “I-I… I never… I didn’t.. Why?”

Asra blinks at me with a look of total surprise. “... Why?” 

I flounder, caught on my mental heels as I find my hands migrating to rest on Asra’s wrists settled on my shoulders, “Yeah! I mean… Why me? What reason is there that… Wait, and you said longer than… longer than I’ve had these feelings? How long, then?”

He grows quiet at this. I suck in breath as his hands glide back to my jaw as he cradles my head gently in his hands. I can’t help but shiver at the look in his eyes, soft, forlorn, far away in another time. “Why you? … How could it be anyone but you?” I feel my cheeks burn and redden beyond comprehension, but Asra doesn’t stop there as his thumb brushes against my cheek, “Maybe it’s because I feel like I can tell you anything… I feel so comfortable around you. You make me feel safe. Maybe there’s something about you that calls to me. Maybe it’s because I can never take my eyes off of you… Or maybe I don’t know the reason at all. There’s a lot about you to like. How could I choose just one reason?” 

My lungs burn and something in my chest is undeniably warm, something far deeper than usual, someplace in my heart. “As for how long…” He rumbles, “Would you believe me if I told you that I knew I’d eventually fall for you from the moment we met?” 

I blink, shocked beyond comprehension, “When I fell in your stall?” When he nods I can’t help but give him a look of incredulousness, “Like… love at first sight sort of thing? I thought that was only in fairytales.” 

Asra smiles fondly at me, his thumbs brush against my cheekbones before he brings them away, down to his lap instead, much to my sudden and surprising displeasure. “It wasn’t like that. It just a feeling… a prediction. One that’s been proven true time and time again.” He looks off to the side for a moment, down at the city below us. The soft, golden light of the thousands of lanterns and torches cast him in a marbled guise, I can’t help but drag my gaze across his every feature, lingering on his lips most of all as they move, “I feel I’ve gotten to know you rather well these past three years, Jamie. It took time because you’re rather naturally reserved… and that’s alright. It’s a part of you… and that’s the thing.” He turns back to face me then with an expression that bears deep into my soul and holds me steady despite how every drop of my blood seems to sing in my veins, “When I fell for you, that means I fell for every part of you, Jamie. Even the parts that you say you’re afraid of me seeing I will fall for, and  _ do  _ fall for, because they’re a part of  _ you.  _ And I like you just the way you are.” 

He must be able to see how red my face is - I feel like a furnace I’m burning up so much from the praise and the attention - for he smiles with his dimples on full display and continues with a softer voice, “I know that this is a lot but… if you like me, and if I like you… Well…” He drifts off, his gaze flickering briefly around us with another wave of scarlet illuminating his features as he mutters, “I’d be willing to try being more than a friend with you. But only if you are.”

It’s a new record for me, but I don’t think my face could get any redder. I swallow thick on the blooms of fire in the back of my throat, but even as I try to pull myself together I can’t stop staring at his lips in the low light of the stars and the city, balanced between like the sun and the moon. When I finally manage to wrestle my gaze back to meet his, I realize that he had totally saw me looking where I was, as he is now giving me a look of intrigue with his eyebrow raised lecherously. Almost daring.

And just like that, a sudden, burning desire flourishes in the pits of my stomach, a want that I’ve never had until this moment as it’s fully realized but now I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. “Yes.” I whisper a tad breathlessly, though I have no clue what makes it so difficult to breathe, “Yes, I do. Does that mean I can…” Against my will my gaze flickers briefly to his lips before I can find the words to ask the question I’m suddenly dying to ask, “Erm… I mean… Can I kiss you, then?” 

This seems to take Asra aback; his face immediately starts to become red as his eyes widen like saucers, so quickly I add, “I-If that makes you uncomfortable-”

“Yes.” Asra abruptly interrupts. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that I pause, looking at him with wide eyes as he seems to struggle internally with something before he takes a settling breath. Once he seems to have collected himself, he peers at me with a sheepish look through his starlight eyelashes and murmurs in a sensual voice that sends shivers up my spine, “I… Yes. Please kiss me.” 

_ Oh.  _

_ Oh God okay this is happening, this is about to happen, this is real and this is happening.  _

Slowly I turn to face him, sliding on my palms. Asra doesn’t move, though he does straighten as he watches me approach with that same expression… I realize now that it’s one of quiet wanting. I settle my hands on his thighs as I inch closer and the both of us start with quiet gasps when our magics touch; the raw intimacy of our energy coinciding is on a completely different level than before, ramped with our anticipation and it’s taking my breath away from sheer touch alone.  _ Will I even be able to survive this? At this rate, it’s a question. _

I grow closer and closer until we’re barely a handsbreadth apart. I can see every layer of lilac and lavender in his owlish eyes, I can hear and feel the shallow rises and falls of his breath. I swallow as anxiety swells and burns just beneath my skin, hesitating as my hands rest on Asra’s thighs. “This still okay?” I ask softly, breathlessly. I feel like I just ran a hundred miles, my breath is suddenly so hard to find, hidden in pits of sweltering heat. 

Asra swallows, and from this close I can see the bob of the apple in his throat; something about that movement makes me skin prickle with heat all across my face, and I’m unsure why. His hands settle over mine on his thighs, his palms are slightly sweaty but the heat of his skin makes my breath stutter nonetheless. After a moment he nods in a swift, desperate motion, his gaze flickering across my features before resting lower. On  _ my  _ lips.  _ He wants this. Oh my God, he wants this. _

Just as I’m about to pull up the courage to close the distance, there’s a sudden, jarring shout from below, “Hey, what’re you kids doin’ up there!”

The both of us jolt and look down from the top of the aqueduct with wide eyes to see a pair of guards approaching from below. “Come down from there, this is private property! You’re in big trouble!” The second one shouts, pointing at us accusingly.

Asra and I look at each other and immediately an idea comes to mind. It’s not something I’ve had to do in a while, and I’ve never tried to do it with another person, but I figure it’s worth a shot in this instance. “Asra, do you trust me?” I whisper swiftly, hands still on his thighs. 

Asra looks at me, looks at the shouting guards below, before he nods with a short laugh, whispering under his breath so the guards don’t hear him, “What are you going to do? I don’t think your face-changing trick will work from this distance.” 

“Yeah! Don’t make us have to come up and get you!” The other guard hollers gruffly from below us.

“Just be quiet, and  _ don’t move.” _ I instruct softly under my breath before I close my eyes and will myself to relax. Making myself blend into the night sky is rather easy in the darkness, willing my skin and clothes to be painted with a dark blue, almost black, I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye. It’s harder when I try to do the same to Asra, because it’s someone outside of myself I’m changing the nature of, but after concentrating for a moment I can feel him slowly start to morph. He gasps softly, but stays true to my request and remains motionless before me, and after a moment I feel his magic pour into mine, empowering my spell and making it more potent. 

“What in the- Munin, did ya see that? They just vanished!” 

I open my eyes and see nothing but shrouded, deep blue. On first glance it’s like Asra’s vanished, but when I glance down at my hands I can see his outline, a black blue spot without stars to show me where he is.  _ Excellent. Should be fine so long as he keeps very still. Eyes are attracted to movement, even if they don’t know what they see. _

“Oh _ fuck _ no, fuck this, fuck ghosts! I told you the aqueduct route was the worst one, this place is  _ fucking  _ haunted! I’m out of here, hell no,  _ heeeeell no!”  _ I look down at where the guards were and see one hastily rushing in the other direction at a quick pace, swearing the whole way. The other guard is soon to follow, calling something about their mother’s heart before they both inevitably disappear around the corner and out of sight. 

I release my magic and our bodies return to their natural colors once the coast is clear. When I look to Asra as his color returns his smile is the first thing I see as he laughs wildly with his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking, “That was amazing! You’re full of all kinds of surprises, aren’t y-” 

_ Now.  _

I grab Asra by the collar of his shirt, tug him closer, and cut him off midsentence by pressing my lips to his. He makes a noise of surprise against me, his hands resting on mine balled up in his shirt. 

Kissing is… an odd feeling. It’s not like the explosions of color that I had heard it was like through people talking about it in the past, but it’s not unpleasant, either. It’s… intimate. It’s strange to be touching someone so affectionately… but it’s not necessarily unwelcome. Especially not when Asra settles and relaxes beneath my hands and starts to move his mouth against mine… kissing me back. I shiver and cling to the front of his shirt all the tighter, unsure of what to do with my hands, and Asra’s touch on my wrists seems to respond in kind. It quickly steals what’s left of my breath away.

After a moment Asra pulls away slightly and brushes his nose against mine, panting a little in a way that sends a pulse of heat straight down my spine. I release my grip on his tunic and smooth the material apologetically, panting softly I mutter, “I-I ah… Sorry. I’ve never done that before… I hope it was okay.” 

Asra chuckles at me with a bright smile and a warm light in his eye as he brushes his thumb across my bottom lip in such an intoxicating manner I swear I see stars. “It was more than okay, Jamie.  _ Way  _ more.” Now that he speaks I realize just out of breath he is, though he tries to hide it by swallowing and breathing through his nose. Asra, speaking while breathless, is incredibly exhilarating… it’s…  _ doing things  _ to me. “I think I could get used to this.” He whispers softly, and now that his lips are just barely parted from mine I can feel his heated breath on my skin like a promise. 

I let out a shaky breath as I drag my fingertips upwards, to his throat and neck and laying my palm along the side just beneath his ear. Asra shivers under my touch, his skin reddens beneath my fingertips and the scarlet crawls into his face as I mutter quietly, “I could too… Does that mean I can kiss you again?” 

“On the contrary.” I blink in surprise as Asra’s hands settle on my shoulders, gliding downwards towards my chest. I shudder as my face blooms in roses when his gaze buries itself into mine, playful and teasing. “This time would you let me kiss you?”

And just like that, I beat my own record of how possibly red my face can get. I feel so suddenly strangled by my emotions that I am at first unable to respond except to nod, before my words finally refind themselves. “Y-Yeah, I guess I would…” 

Asra chuckles in a manner I’ve never heard before, it’s huskier, more playful and affectionate as he cups my face in his hands, “Wonderful.” When he closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine it’s different than before, and not just because he did it far faster than I initially tried to. There’s a certain kind of humming energy behind it that immediately sucks out my breath through my teeth and inspires another bonfire to ignite in my core, a torch tossed into dry grass. 

I push closer, my hands returning to his thighs as he kisses me dizzy, the night seeming to fall away until there’s nothing in the world but Asra and I.  _ I could get used to this.  _ I think to myself as Asra’s hands weave into my hair and down my braid. 

_ I definitely think that I could get used to this.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clangs pots and pans together* cONFESSION CHAPTER CONFESSION CHAPTER CONFESS-  
> It just gets gayer from here, people. it just gets gayer from here...   
> this is the part where i remind everyone of the "eventual smut" tag


	9. Temperance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Asra have finally come clean about their mutual feelings towards one another... but it doesn't all fade to black in positivity from there. The struggles that Jamie has dealt with alone for so long are now starting to bleed into his new life he shares with his other. Struggles with his past, his self-perception, struggles with his emerging sexuality and all the questions that these struggles entertain now that he and Asra are involved are coming into the limelight... whether Jamie likes it or not.  
> \---  
> *Warning: NSFW at the beginning and at the end, perfectly balanced, as all things should be. Also some light violence in the beginning (italics). Panic attack and some symptoms of PTSD post italic beginning & through the middle. 1 reference to alcohol at the end*

_ Thin, towering pines, daggered leaves digging into the soles of my feet as I leap over a set of gnarled tree roots. Darkness cut into strips by sharp white moonlight turns the rough bark into the keys of a pipe organ, it’s hard to see through the peeling shadow. I run, the slapping of bare feet on the pine needled earth, my own rapid breath making my ears rattle like chains…  _

_ I hear it again, suddenly ringing out in the black forest like a scream; the cracking of a whip, the terrifying gush of wind that happens when it’s right next to your ear. I wince and nearly fall in my mad rush to escape but by the miracle of a sticky conifer I manage to force myself back on the path away, away, as far away as I can. I see the silvery outline through the black trees, the end is close, so close, I just have to get there and then I’ll be safe- _

_ I break the treeline so fast I nearly lose my balance coming upon a steep cliff. I slam to a halt, if I were a heartbeat slower I would be falling thousands and thousands of feet down to the crashing ocean below. The roar of the pounding waves suddenly reaches my ears and breaks the oppressive silence around me like a thrown looking glass.  _

_ I hear a noise behind me, a sudden footfall and the cracking of a twig. Immediately I twist, turning around… and burst into a smile when the scenery falls away and instead is replaced with warm familiarity, beaded curtains dazzling the walls in thousands of colors as soft sunlight streams through and across the bundles of blankets stretched across Asra’s bed. I let out a soft breath of relief, the sigh pulled from my lungs disrupting the quiet of the space.  _

_ The bed is not unoccupied, however. Lying down across the middle, basking in the sunlight like a contented cat lies the one with the lavender eyes who has occupied my every waking and unwaking thought. “There you are.” Asra hums with a playful curl of his lips. _

_ I giggle and move without thinking, crawling to lie on top of Asra with my knees on either side of his waist. Sitting on his hips and my heels I curl a hand into Asra’s hair, fluffy and serene like silk through my fingers as he sits up and buries his face into my chest for a hug. “You weren’t waiting for too long, were you?” I murmur with a tilt of my head. _

_ “I don’t mind waiting if it’s for you.” Asra’s voice is different, new but in a way that I recognize; dropped lower, a little more dangerous and intimate, like his tongue guards a secret. His arms stop squeezing but they don’t move from where they are wrapped around me as his hands start to explore the surface of my skin. It’s weird because it’s only in that moment do I realize I’m shirtless, it’s weirder that I’m okay with it, and for a moment seeing myself in the minimal garb I was forced to wear before I came south almost brings me out of the sweetened clouds I was in. This is wrong, isn’t it? This can’t be right…  _

_ That is, until, Asra’s fingertips dance up the skin of my throat and touch my chin, guiding my face to downward to meet his lips that were already there, expectant and waiting for me to occupy them. It’s still new, kissing Asra… further intensified when the sudden burn I feel in my stomach ignites like the beginning of dragon’s fire as I immediately let out a sigh of longing against his lips and melt into him. He gasps softly in answer, his lips parting against mine and delving deeper almost immediately, making my head swim and thoughts sharpen all at once.  _

_ Asra’s hands continue to glide along my skin, up my sides, down my back. I feel them touch where they should not but whenever his skin brushes the scars that I know lie beneath my hair they instead tingle and warm like salve- except it’s not beneath my hair like they usually are. No, my hair is all wrong, it’s short, very short, barely getting in my eyes, I feel that now. My head is far lighter than it’s supposed to be. My back is on full display…  _

_ But not while Asra is under me. I shiver when Asra’s fingertips continue to dance along my spine as I press further into Asra, carding my hands through his soft hair almost obsessively - it’s always so soft, it must be magic - before I push him onto his back. He goes willingly, his lips working against mine with gentle sucks on my bottom lip in a goading manner, as if he wants…  _

_ “More.” I growl softly, breaking away from his lips only briefly so I can adjust my seat in his lap. Asra looks up at me with wide, startled eyes, I can feel his hands settle on my waist as I post my arms on either side of his head, his hair is wild and curling in a seafoam crown on the pillows beneath him. Seeing him like this pleases the magma beast in my belly far more than I thought it would, it burns in all the right places and replaces charred memories with new, igneous wants. “I wanna give you more.” I whisper with a hoarse and husky murmur before I push in closer and kiss him again, cupping his face with my hands on his jawline, cradling him, holding him close, holding him  _ **_down_ ** _ with my hips overtop of his.  _

_ Asra lets out a soft noise against my lips as his hands grip to hold onto my belt, my teeth graze his bottom lip and immediately heat blooms in my face as a soft gasp escapes, mingling mutual want in the air between us. I nibble on the curve of his soft lips, slick with our affections as I bear my hips down upon him, being driven by the fire elemental that’s seized every function of my limbs.  _

_ “O-oh Jamie-” Asra cuts himself off with a gasp as I do so, his hips bucking into mine and further fanning the flames raging within. Flame licks out between my teeth and Asra gasps softly, recoiling until his head strikes the pillows as he mutters, “Ah-... That hurt.” He mutters, touching his hand to his lip as confusion dances in the lavender lights of his eyes. His skin is pinker than normal, but it’s not a terrible burn…  _

_ Suddenly, my form shivers and convulses before hands that are no longer my own grab Asra’s and pin them to the bed. They look like my hands, but they’re visibly red hot and when they come in contact with Asra his skin hisses and then burns beneath them as he suddenly lets out a cry of pain, “Jamie! Ah- What’re you doing?! You’re hurting me! Stop!” His eyes are wide, watery, his face twists from the pain as my grip on him tightens. My grip?  _

_ Wait, this is  _ **_my_ ** _ body. This is Asra. Asra is crying and twisting and convulsing, now he’s not moving because  _ **_I’m_ ** _ hurting him.  _

_ And just like that control is restored. I release him, gasping as the fire within me suddenly grows tangible and real and starts to leap out like a wild wolf towards Asra’s unconscious form but it’s still chained to my body, chained to my corporeal form. I gasp in terror and hurl myself backwards to get away- _

I hit the wooden floor so hard I jolt awake in every facet, my head and elbows taking the full brunt of the fall. I don’t care about the thrumming pain, I sit up with wild eyes looking around, gasping desperately for air that refuses to come. The room shivers and shakes, Asra’s room, Asra’s bed next to me, I’m in Asra’s room, that’s right- movement out of the corner of my vision. 

“Jamie…? Oh- Jamie, are you alright?!” 

Asra’s form comes into view from the other side of the bed and on instinct I raise my hands when he reaches out to me, scooting back until my back hits the wall, “No, don’t touch me! Don’t, I-I’ll hurt you!” 

The world seems to come into a little more focus when Asra stops, kneeling just a few inches away from me. I can see now my hands, shaking in the air extended out towards him, are just like they were in my dream; visibly glowing red and shimmering with supernatural heat. This does nothing but intensify my panic as I try to reign in my magical control and it instead rears its head and pulses, flame licking from my fingertips instead in answer. “No, no, please, stop!” I plea with myself, not for the first time and not for the last, shaking my hands to extinguish the candlelight-like flames. 

“Shh, hush now, it’s alright. You need to relax.” Asra’s hands come into view and even as I let out a sharp cry to stop him his hands cup mine and I let out a jolt when I feel his magic; it’s cool, calm, collected like a sheet of ice against the roiling, spitting chaos of mine, writhing through my soul like worms. His hands are freezing, like the ocean in winter, frost-kissed fingertips gently grip my wrists and pull my attention away from the turmoil within instead to the sudden temperature change on my sweltering skin. I take several gasping breaths as my gaze moves up Asra’s arm to his face to see him kneeling directly next to me, his gentle lavender eyes glimmer softly with worry as he murmurs again in a tender voice, “It’s alright, Jamie, it’s going to be alright. Just focus on me. Focus on taking deep breaths. Like this.” He imitates it for himself, taking a long inhale through his nose before letting it out his mouth. 

I follow his directive, shaking like a clinging leaf in a tempest that refuses to relinquish the branch. Slowly, listening to me and Asra breathing, I feel Asra’s magic against mine is not just channelling the freezing cold but also warding against all magic, an added layer of protection so I can’t truly hurt him, at least not like this. For some reason that settles me down more than anything else, my deeper breaths become more genuine and less forced until when I look back within me I feel my magic has returned to normal. There’s barely even a hint of the explosive pits of chaos that it once felt like it was. With my magic so subsides the temperature, my hands return to their natural pallor and the red disintegrates. 

Once the heat has receded, Asra’s hands return to a normal temperature and migrate from my hands to my face, even despite them being a regular amount of warm he still feels startlingly cool against the fire under my skin. “Are you alright?” Asra asks, his snowfall brows knit together in worry. 

I look away, embarrassment is now what makes me feel so hot. “Yeah, I… I’m so sorry. It’s been so long since that’s happened I-I completely panicked.” 

“It’s alright, no one got hurt.” Asra murmurs consoling me, making me swallow on the iron bar in my throat as he moves his thumb across my brow, “What happened?” 

I flounder a little as true shame takes hold. I don’t want to tell him everything simply because I don’t want him to worry… but on the other hand, he also deserves some sort of explanation. “I have um… I have nightmares. Rather chronically. They don’t usually make me react like that but it’s happened a few times when I-I get… emotional.” I rub the back of my neck, carefully keeping my gaze away from the pulling gravity of Asra’s, instead regarding my bare feet, the bedspread, the hem of Asra’s tunic. “I’m so sorry that my magic got out of control like that. I thought I’d gotten over it and that it wouldn’t be a problem but… apparently I have not just yet.” 

Asra hums in the back of his throat, his hands settling on my shoulders before he murmurs questioningly, “Jamie, can I kiss your head?” I nod without much thought, so he cautiously leans forward and presses his lips gently to my temple. He asks, like he always has, even a kiss as chaste as this one, though it makes my heart thunder all the same. “I hear you, and it’s alright. I’m sorry that this is something that you’re struggling with… But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, and I want to help as much as you’ll allow me to.” 

I nod sheepishly in understanding, ducking my head slightly and rubbing my forearms uncomfortably for a few moments, unsure of what to say in response. Asra rubs a hand up and down my arm and shoulder in a comforting manner, settling to sit down next to me on the floor rather than on his knees as he continues with a tender tone, “Would it help to talk about it?” 

I swallow on a lump of wet coal. “I… There’s not much to say. I just…” I frown, chewing on my bottom lip in worry and anxiety.  _ Just a little information won’t hurt. Just so long as I keep the details of it to myself…  _ “I’ve had the same recurring nightmare for years now. They all start the same, at least, but… they change in how they end. Not sure why they change or what they change into or why it keeps repeating itself… It just does.” I rub on my shoulder as the expanse of flesh between my shoulderblades suddenly begins to ache; I grit my teeth and try to ignore it as I quickly wave a hand and stand up from where I was sitting on the floor. “I really shouldn’t be weighing you down with this-” 

“It’s alright, I don’t find it heavy.” Asra counters as he stands as well, taking a hold of my forearm with gentle fingers. I let out a sigh when I meet his gaze, pushing my hair -  _ my long, long hair, oh how I’ve missed you so _ \- out of my face. With a guiding gesture Asra sets me down on the edge of the bed before sitting beside me, his thigh flush against mine and our hands interlaced. “What recurs in your nightmares? Perhaps talking about it might help.” He asks softly, his thumb rubbing circles into the palm of my hand rather soothingly. 

_ Perhaps talking about it might help.  _ My everything recoils at the very thought. “It’s not so much a nightmare as a ah… memory. From when I lived in the north.” I murmur, but as I open my mouth to say more it’s like lockjaw, everything in my face seizes painfully and forces my mouth shut. So instead I let out a gruff breath through my nose, “I’d prefer to leave it at that.” 

“I understand.” Asra’s fingertips trail up to my shoulder and then to my head, he brushes my hair behind my ear and then over my other shoulder before he plants a soft kiss on my cheek that nearly sends me into the astral plane my heart skips so many beats. With a gentle whisper just a few inches away from my skin he continues with a soft drop in his voice, “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

My face erupts with heat, natural heat this time, I can tell my face is turning into a bouquet of roses as I flounder for a reply, “I-I… it’s no big deal… I owe you that much for burning- nearly burning your face off.”

Asra crinkles his nose adorably at me in response but otherwise doesn’t answer me, his weight on my side endlessly comforting. Before long he pulls away, standing up and offering his hands out to me as he raises an eyebrow, “You ought to draw yourself a bath, it’ll help you feel better. A fresh start to the day.” 

I look at him, his hands, then back up at him before I slip my hands into his and rise. “Trying to tell me I stink?” I tease, on one hand to help myself out of my mental funk but mostly to prove to Asra that I’m alright now. That I don’t need him to coddle me. 

It seems to work, as Asra chuckles and relaxes a little as he releases my hands once I’m standing, “No, I don’t notice things like that about you.” He tosses this idly over his shoulder as he heads into the small area next to the bedroom, I suppose to make breakfast. Though I’m tempted to ask him what he  _ does  _ notice about me, I’m a little scared to know the answer so I vie instead to take that bath, slipping into the small, separate room, the only room in the whole shop besides the back room downstairs with a substantial cover over the doorway, with a change of clothes. 

I take my time bathing the nightmare sweat off, shampooing my hair until bubbles crown my temple and my back, each lather and stroke wiping the memory of the dream away until I can barely remember what it was about at all. When I emerge, drying my hair with a towel I hear a stranger’s voice downstairs, “-already arranged. All you two would need to do is come to the palace just before the Masquerade begins.” 

I blink, raising an eyebrow at this I discard the towel and head down the stairs to investigate the scene. There I find Asra standing in the shop with a person I’ve never seen before but they’re obviously a messenger from the palace, they have high end lace and cloth encircling their form and they bear the insignia messengers carry on their shoulder. They turn towards me when I walk down the stairs and suddenly their jaw drops before it snaps closed again, their big, blue eyed gaze glistening like sapphire teardrops as they stumble, “Er… A… Are you…? I mean, oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for my rudeness, I am- Oh wait, that’s not protocol. This is- Oh no.” They seem to pull themselves together by the time I come all the way downstairs, combing back my hair with my fingers as they clear their throat, “Are you the other magician? Er-”

“This is Jamie, yes.” Asra murmurs helpfully for the struggling messenger, who has started turning a deep crimson beneath their frilly collar. He turns to me then, an inquisitive look in his eye as he speaks again, “It would seem that Nadia has  _ ‘cordially invited’ _ us to attend the Masquerade this year.” 

I blink in surprise, “I thought you said it was an event anyone could attend?” 

Asra nods, and surprisingly the courier seems to have recovered enough from whatever beset them to helpfully pipe up, “Of course, but milady is offering you lodging at the palace during the festivities, as well as costumes if you need them!” When I meet their eyes the red that had just bled from their face returns rather suddenly, and they quickly look away with their hands twisting in their tunic.  _ Odd.  _

“How considerate of her.” Asra purrs with an amused curve of his lips upwards, he glances over at me with a knowing look, an eyebrow poised in question in a manner that I don’t quite understand before he turns back to the messenger. “Thank you for the message.” 

They pause, lingering with their hat in their hands before they suddenly snap to attention and nod, “R-Right! Thank you! I mean you’re welcome. I mean-! … I’ll just go now… Lovely to meet you!” They flush as red as a guppy before they scamper like they can’t get out of here soon enough, the door shutting silently behind them. 

Asra chuckles softly once they’re gone, glancing towards me with an entertained gleam in his eye, “Well, that was certainly something.”

I blink a little, still staring at the doorway before continuing to comb my hair with my fingers, “Was there something wrong with my face or something? They kept looking at me so… strangely.” 

“Was it truly so strange?” Asra asks with a genuine lilt of honesty and a dash of amusement. When I give him an incredulous look he continues with a more serious tone, “I know I’ve seen others look at you similarly… as have I plenty of times before.”

I furrow my eyebrows, looking down at the floor as recent events come to mind. “... Does that mean that… Do you think everyone at the palace know about the incident where I… where I lost control?” I gesture idly to my face, my heart plummeting into my stomach. 

Losing control of my magic twice so close together… Well, Asra’s trial was a month ago by now, but it’s still closer than any of my other… incidents have ever been. I can count the times I’ve lost control of my magic since I’ve come south on one hand, including these two. 

The playful glimmer in Asra’s eyes snuffs out. He takes a step closer and cups my face in his hands, as if he senses the trail my thoughts leave and is trying to reach in and silence them. I shiver, allowing it to happen but feeling suddenly vulnerable I close my eyes to mitigate how self conscious I feel with him standing so close to me. “That’s absolutely not what I was referring to.” Asra murmurs, his thumbs caress my cheekbones. When I don’t answer he continues in a soft, intimate voice, “Jamie… I don’t think that when your magic manifests in that way it’s you losing control of it. I think it’s more…” Silence. “... How do I put this…” 

I open my eyes to meet Asra’s pouring into me, starlight and astral dust glittering before me as he speaks with meaning and emphasis in each of his words, “It’s more like a defense mechanism. Something evokes an emotional response out of you, like a nightmare, or Ksasthra upsetting you, and your magic comes to support that emotional response.” I furrow my eyebrows as Asra continues in the same soft tone, tentative and almost cautious, “In the palace, you were angry, weren’t you?” I nod. “You wanted Ksasthra to know you and fear you, so you made yourself something to be feared. It may have been on an unconscious level… but it was still within your control.” Asra’s fingertips drift to my jaw then into my hair, idly they dance through the inky black locks as his gaze drifts a little farther downwards, “It’s like a muscle. And somehow along the way… I think you were trained to react in this way as a method of protecting yourself.” 

I feel my face burn at the thought, I glance off to the side as my mind immediately takes Asra’s words and stampedes them into my dream. Protecting myself? Becoming too hot to the touch as a defense mechanism… I don’t remember there being anything in my dream that made me feel that was necessary. What didn’t I want to touch? What didn’t I want touching me? It couldn’t have been a matter of  _ wanting  _ that, I remember that what happened before I lost control was something good, but… Could it be that I got scared of something touching me? What could have scared me about… 

Asra slowly pulls his hands away from my face, snapping my attention back to the present as he murmurs, “I’m sorry that this is something you struggle with. I hope that I can help you… in whatever way I can. I can’t stand to hear you thinking down on yourself. You’re someone worthy of respect and love and I want you to know that that’s the case no matter what.” My face burns a fresh shade of red as Asra seems to turn a mental corner, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts before he smiles at me softly, “I hope that sates your worries a little in that regard because I promise you… What that courier was thinking is something  _ very  _ different.” I blink, staring at Asra as he heads behind the counter, messing with some charms on the shelves. Before I can question him on what he means by that he turns back to me and raises a playful brow, “Well, what do you think?”

I blink. “About what?”

“The invitation! Do you want to go?” Asra turns his back to me again, skirting his fingers along the right and then back to the left side of the shelf, “I know in the past with your performances that you’ve never been able to attend but… Perhaps this year we can change that, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

I lean on the counter, watching Asra move with a pensive expression across my features. “... Wow. This would be my first Masquerade, wouldn’t it? … Doesn’t it officially start tonight? Are we even ready?” 

Asra answers me without turning around, “According to the courier, Nadia has everything already prepared for us. Costumes for the evenings and lodging at night.”

I scoff, “We live just down the tier, it’s barely a fifteen minute walk.” 

“I’m sure it’s for if we become totally debased and can barely stand upright, we have a nearby bed to collapse in.” Asra answers with a playful edge of honesty, flashing a smile at me from over his shoulder, “So?” 

I think with my chin in my palm. “... What’s this about costumes?” 

“The Masquerade is a costume party. Everyone wears costumes and accompanying masks… in all honesty I think it’s a fun opportunity for Vesuvia to get dressed up.” Asra admits with a shy aside, finally turning around to face me from the other side of the counter. “Nadia’s got an incredible eye for fashion. I’m positive that you’ll look amazing in whatever she has laid out for you… not that it will be hard.” Asra touches my chin and tilts my face towards his, raising a lecherous brow at me he continues with a dropped voice like steeping tea, “You’d look divine in anything and nothing.”

I blink once, twice, before the full meaning of his words strike me as if with a club upside the head.  _ “Asra!” _ I huff with wild embarrassment as simply Asra chuckles victoriously in response. I shake my head to push way the creeping red moss in my face so I can answer him without shame, “Alright, well… I think we should go. It sounds like fun! And besides, if the Co… Nadia is inviting us then I think that  _ really  _ means we ought to go.”

“True.” Asra murmurs before he flashes me a smile and rounds about the counter to head up the stairs. “Let’s see if we have any good Masquerade sweaters for Faust, shall we?” 

I chuckle and shake my head, braiding my hair back now that it’s dried a little more before I focus on tending the still-open shop, keeping it manned before darkness falls. 

… 

When it comes time for us to head to the palace to prepare for the Masquerade in evening, Asra has decided it probably best that Faust stay home upon remembering there’s -  _ apparently  _ \- a room dedicated to exotic birds in the palace, and people will react poorly if Faust is sighted near them, even though she doesn’t eat birds. Asra insists she’s fine with it, but I give her an extra minute of chin scritches anyway just so she knows she will be missed before we depart for the palace. 

When we arrive, there are already several dozen people there, obviously nobility based on the quality of their silken dress, and suddenly I feel like Asra and I stick out like sore thumbs. Luckily the fellow with the ridiculous hat, the chamberlain, I remember now, is hopping around the entrance at this time and spots us easily, rapidly receiving us and then guiding us into the palace and to our room for the evening before we can even be spotted by the noble guests.

“In here you’ll find a selection of masks and costumes the Countess had made up for you, as well as a few extra costumes from outside. If you have any questions, there’s a servant or two down the hall who can help you! Happy Masquerade!” The chamberlain declares happily with rapid fire words before they skip out, leaving us in an open doorway of a luxurious bedroom, at least luxurious in comparison to the shop. It’s about as large as the whole second floor of the shop put together with plush carpeting and high walls, ornate and intricate with marbled pillars lining the far wall. The bed is wide, covering most of the right half of the room, with tall, pearlescent bannisters connected to sheer, turquoise, silky cloth that hangs over the vibrant cyan sheets like a watery veil. On the left side are several, long mirrors, and a wardrobe, currently open and empty. 

On the wall opposite of us is a large flat desk that’s covered in cloth of all kinds, and as I enter and grow closer I see now that it’s a laid out assortment of costumes, hundreds of vibrant patterns and colors with matching masks. These masks are of a different quality make than Asra’s and Muriel’s that they used to sell, only because these seem to bear an array of gemstones, silks and velvet of all kinds that show the wealth that went behind them. I wish I had thought to scrounge up one of the ones that Muriel had made, as I find them more to my taste than what I see here, but I suppose I ought not be rude to turn my nose up at such luxurious loans. 

“These must be the costumes. So many choices…” Asra murmurs as he steps beside me after closing the door behind us, his fingertips touching the edges of the cloth with a shine of intrigue in his lavender hues. “... Let’s see what we have.”

“This must have been a lot for Nadia to have put together just for us.” I murmur as Asra starts unfolding the clothes and examining them one at a time as I do the same, investigating the color choices first and then the cut after. 

“I’ve found that Nadia likes to ah… spoil people. It’s her love language. I wouldn’t let it worry you.” Asra turns towards me and holds up a long, deep crimson garment with a deep, swooping back, “How do you like this one?” 

I look at the cloth for a long while, imagining it on Asra and just as the imagery becomes too much for my face I shrug, “I think you’d look handsome in just about anything, Asra. If you like it, do it.” 

Asra blinks at me in surprise for a moment before he grins brightly with a melodic laugh, “I meant for you!” 

“Oh!” I blink, staring at the deep cut in the back with fresh eyes. “I don’t much like dresses.” I decide, “Trousers are in my comfort zone.” 

“Understood.” Asra nods seriously as he sets the garment aside. Now, outside I can begin to hear the sounds of the Masquerade beginning in full swing, joyous cheers and the chatter of bustling crowds moving about. 

“What about this one for you, then?” I turn to Asra as he lifts up a cobalt shirt with a deeply-plunging neckline and raises an eyebrow at me. “It’s your color.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes as I examine one of the masks idly, remembering our shopping spree a few weeks ago I retort, “You say that about every color.”

“I can’t help it, Jamie, you look radiant in everything.” I nearly choke on my own spit as Asra sets down the clothing and moves on to another, apparently oblivious to how his few simple words nearly strangled me, “Fine, what about this one?” Loud, gaudy patterns assault my eyes as he presents me with some sort of… rainbow cheetah print tunic? It looks completely out of place with the other assortments of costumes.

I immediately and vehemently shake my head, “ _ Asra! _ Do you want me to  _ blind  _ people?” 

Asra’s gaze glimmers with mischief, despite how his words are serious, suave, and silky, “I’m already blinded by your beauty.” 

I flush deeply in embarrassment.  _ “Asra.”  _

Finally with a laugh he relents, raising his hands up in surrender as he grins wickedly, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop helping.” He seems to have selected one of the sets of costumes on the table as he pulls it to rest on top and starts stripping right next to me, pulling off his scarf and tossing it onto the bed before he tugs off his tunic over his head. I watch the movement admittedly longer than I should, my gaze hitches and drags on the revealed skin before I remember my manners and quickly turn away, my face shifting into the color of ripe tomatoes; fortunately I had the sense to look away before I saw too much. I pick up one of the costumes that had caught my eye, a dark blue, almost black tunic encrusted along its neckline with clear crystals, they look like diamonds but I doubt Nadia would pay  _ that  _ much for our costumes, though they are convincing lookalikes. It comes with black trousers and a sheer, violet cape that’s shimmers in the light, when I look at it closer I see lines of glitter amongst the fabric, making it look like the cloak was fabricated with stardust. It’s supposed to attach to my shoulders, so I attach it to the tunic first before I turn a bit away from Asra to quickly change into the costume. 

“Sorry Jamie, but could I get your help with the back? It’s proving a little more difficult than I thought.” 

I nod, haphazardly making sure that I’m at least somewhat clothed in half of my costume before I turn around to assist with Asra’s but just as I do I immediately freeze, my face igniting to the color of a bowl of cherries. Almost the entirety of Asra’s back is exposed to me with a trail of mulberry cloth behind him from the small of his back, hanging down to his feet. He’s holding the top of the lavish, dark purple shirt behind his neck at the fastening point, little cintrines and golden beads are woven along the edges of the bared expanse of his back like the gilded frame of a painting… a very beautiful painting. 

I can’t help but swallow as my gaze drags and hitches on the curve of Asra’s back before I manage to finally focus my gaze instead on his face; he looks at me with a downright lewd expression over his shoulder, his  _ exposed  _ shoulder, raising an eyebrow like he knows exactly what this sight is doing to me. I’ve never seen so much of him in clothes hiding so little before… and he’s going to be like this all night. 

_ By all that’s divine in this world, give me strength.  _

“Well?” Asra asks, teasingly cocking an eyebrow as he fiddles with the fastenings behind his neck in beckoning.

Quickly I clear my throat and shake my head out of the gutters it suddenly found itself in as I close the distance between us. I gingerly take the back clasp, golden fixtures that gleam like hidden treasure on the wine-colored cloth, out of his slender hands before aligning them to hold in place. I find my fingertips lingering for a few moments too long upon the nape of his neck, making sure his silvery hair didn’t get caught in the clasp before forcing my hands back to my sides, mostly because I can’t stop thinking about dragging them down Asra’s exposed back and that is really not something I should be thinking about when we’re about to go out into the Masquerade. 

My thoughts are interrupted when Asra turns around and faces me as well, and only then do I get to see the other half of the costume. It has the trail in the back but the front is cut in the chape of a diamond, shorter in the front with a tapering at the top just beneath Asra’s throat, revealing… basically the entirety of his shoulders and arms. As I’m drinking in the sight Asra takes up some golden decorative rings from the desk and affixes them around his biceps, as if this will cover anything at all, but when I see the full picture I can’t help how hot my face becomes because he looks so…  _ wow.  _ Every inch of him looks like a work of art, the golden fringes make his skin gleam, the sangria darkness of the tunic makes his hair shimmer like moonlight and his lavender gaze stark and bright like the stars. 

Those eyes slide to me then as he decorates his arms and wrists, attaching a part of the trail of the tunic to the bracelets so that some of the shimmering golden cloth moves with his hands. Now that I’m looking I see that even the tunic’s trousers are masterfully intricate, they match the tunic’s color and pattern down to woven, gilded beading along the side fringes down his pant leg and to his boots. “Ah, my apologies, you haven’t finished getting dressed. Want some help?” He gestures to the whole unfastened front of my tunic, left open so I could aid Asra… the preferred subject of my attentions. He raises an eyebrow at me suggestively, though what he’s suggesting is beyond me. 

“Er… if you’d like.” I mutter awkwardly, shifting my hands instead into my hair. Now seeing just how amazing Asra looks I suddenly feel the pressure to match, which means doing something beyond normal with my hair for once. So I start to braid one section of my hair that frames my face and then the other, joining them behind my back and then settling a braid down the center, nestled in the rest of my hair that remains down and flat on my back. 

Meanwhile Asra steps close, barely a few inches away from me he alternates between scanning my features and buttoning up my tunic; it’s actually surprisingly distracting. I lower my head to finish the braid as Asra finishes straightening my tunic, as if in response Asra presses a soft kiss to the top of my head before he takes the smallest step back when my face begins to turn into the color of carnations. Just as I’m folding the end of the smaller braid to keep it in place Asra’s eyes rake across my form, taking me in now that I’m fully costumed. “Well?” I ask, holding out my arms to showcase the clothes, “What do you think?” 

Asra’s eyes are slightly wide as he examines me, rubies adorning his skin like the citrines of his costume. Cautiously he settles his hands on my shoulders and smoothes the cloth stretched across them, the short cape, then the tunic beneath it, his gaze drifts down and across my chest before they rise to meet mine. As his face persists with its carmine color softly he whispers with a voice that’s surprisingly abashed and sweet, “Jamie… you look… ethereal. Absolutely ravishing, I… The proper words escape me.” 

Surprisingly, his compliment doesn’t completely upend me like it usually does, rather I find myself knowing exactly what I want to say in response. “If I look even as half as beautiful as you do, then I’d say ethereal fits.” I whisper back, slightly against my will my gaze drops to his shoulders and chest to retake in his beautiful costume before my gaze rises back to meet his, and when I do I shiver at the intensity behind them. As if guiding me to water his gaze shifts steadily lower and he grows steadily closer, his hands never leave my shoulders as his fingertips dig slightly into the cloth. 

I’m not sure who leaned in first, but the next thing I know Asra’s lips are on mine and mine are on his. They’re demanding and warm and insistent, he presses against me like he’s thirsty and at the back of my throat he’ll find an oasis. I can’t stop myself from shivering, gripping the sides of his costume, silky and soft to the touch beneath my demanding fingertips as Asra’s lips dance against mine. I feel his lips part with a smile before the kiss deepens, his hands migrate from my shoulders and into my hair to hold me close to him, as if I would go anywhere else. 

There’s a chorus of loud laughter that sounds like it’s right outside our door, shocking us both apart with panting breaths. I glance at the door as the noise simmers, but that’s when I realize that the Masquerade must be in full swing around us. “P-perhaps…” I break away slightly, holding both of my hands on his shoulders, “... We should get going for what we’re here for. You know… my first Masquerade?” 

He nods in sheepish agreement as I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, suddenly laughing with blushed amusement, “Ah right! I’d gotten so… lost in the moment that I’d forgotten where we are.” 

_ That had gotten a little carried away a little fast… was that alright with him? Did he like it…? _

Asra twists away towards the table and offers me one of the Masquerade masks; it’s painted a deep blue with mixtures of swirling violet, shaped to cover over half of my face in the guise of a wolf with tall ears and wide fluff. Diamonds and flecks of silver decorate its surface but especially concentrated around the eyes, so it seems like it goes with my costume. Asra grabs another for himself, this mask looks like it’s made entirely of filigree gold save for the onyx gemstones hanging from the edges, fashioned to look like a fox’s features; I can tell based on the smaller, thinner snout and wider face. I can’t help but curl my nose at them, not entirely keen on wearing something on my face all night but when Asra dons his I quickly do the same. It’s not nearly as restrictive as I thought it was, even though it covers most of my face, and it isn’t particularly uncomfortable. I suppose at least there’s that. 

“Shall we?” Asra asks as he holds out his arm to me, his lavender eyes dance and gleam with eager anticipation beneath the gold of his mask. It hardly hides anything, the gold almost blends in with the bronze hue of his skin but obscures him just enough to grant him an aura of mystique. 

I smile at him, relaxed and ready for anything I nod, “We shall.” 

Together we stride out of the bedroom to join the main party of the Masquerade. 

I didn’t get a good look at the palace on our way to our quarters for the evening because of the chamberlain’s pace but now I can see that every single aspect of the palace has been decorated for the event. Beautiful decorations line the walls and gild the surfaces, platters of sweets scatter about as we head down the halls that are populated with hundreds and hundreds of people in all sorts of masks and costumes. Some are loud and gaudy while others are sleek and sophisticated, or a balance in between, matching the identity of the person wearing it. It’s rather stunning, seeing so many swirls of color in one place, it feels like when I walked through the Vesuvian market for the first time. 

“Where would you like to go first?” Asra asks as we walk down the hall. It’s a little loud with all the people talking, but it seems to echo enough that I can hear Asra no problem when he’s beside me. “There are usually themed rooms in the main hall, fun things to get up to… there’s food in the dining room just down the way, or we can see if the dancing has started in the ballroom yet if you’d like.”

I raise an eyebrow a little curiously, “Dancing? I’d like to see that…” 

Asra flashes me a warm, friendly smile as his arm linked with mine guides me down another illuminescent corridor, “I wondered if you’d like that… Ballroom it is.” 

As we walk, I examine the minute details of the rooms we pass through, the gilded edges of ceramic vases bearing bursting bundles of exotic flowers, the paint strokes of the massive works of art upholstered on the walls, before I murmur thoughtfully to Asra, “I’ve seen many styles of dancing now, though since we went out that one time during the Masquerade a few years ago I’ve realized that dancing with others is different than dancing on a stage… I want to see what’s different about dancing here.” 

“It’s very different. More about coordination and how you look than anything else.” Asra responds. 

“So just like on a stage.” I murmur as a couple passes by and makes eye contact with me, their gaze lingers on mine for a long moment that leaves me feeling suddenly rather vulnerable before we disappear around a corner and out of their sight. As if subconsciously I find myself unlooping my arm from Asra’s as we enter a hall with less people, allowing us to walk more loosely side by side. 

He allows me to without a comment. “Surprisingly… I think it may be similar, yes.” Asra offers. I can tell we’re getting close to the ballroom for I begin to hear the edges of an orchestra over the sound of voices, getting louder as we move through the gilded halls until we spill into an expansive room. Pillars line the sides and lead to a domed, glass ceiling, showing the naked stars over our heads. Colorful light streams down from what I recognize to be magic orbs of light, set into the wall to softly illuminate the space and to change colors every once in a while, making the air seem to shift and saturate with vibrancy. In the middle I see a multitude of well dressed people are dancing in pairs, circling and sweeping the floor in a known and established pattern. Beyond the wide dance floor is a massive set of red-carpeted stairs, leading first up and then to the wings, where balconies overlooking the ballroom reside over our heads, filled with people chatting away happily as the dance goes on. 

“Whoa.” I murmur softly. 

“The nobility are rather… passionate about the Masquerade.” Asra mutters as his hand laces with mine, “This is the first dance. They do the same one every year, as is tradition… You can tell because it’s the only one Nadia participates in.” I raise an eyebrow and try to follow his gaze to the spiraling dancers but I can’t seem to pick her out from the crowd, they move too fast. But by then the song comes to an end and the dancers disperse, laughter and applause erupts all around as the song suddenly shifts and instead becomes something upbeat and merry, something that immediately brings many like us standing on the sidelines onto the floor to dance. 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me and glances towards the floor, “So… May I have your first official Masquerade dance?”

I laugh at Asra loudly with a broad smile as I take his hand and tug it to the dance floor, “Who  _ else  _ would I be dancing with?” 

The crowd of dancers appear to be in pairs mostly, though I spot several triplets or others who deign to dance singularly but in exclusive circles. I take the lead with Asra out of force of habit, glancing around me to learn the dance queues from the other dancers before mimicking them. It’s a talent that has… had earned me my position as lead dancer for Ksasthra’s performances. Asra follows easily, he moves with me just as I do, like he can read my thoughts before my thoughts are laid clear. I smile at him as we move, reveling in the vibrant atmosphere, the movement of bodies, the invisibility of living in a crowd, wrapped up close to one I hold dear. 

There comes a point where many couples around us pull closer together, standing nearly chest to chest with one clasped arm raised next to each other, so I move to do the same with Asra, pulling him close until we’re flush. His gaze slips over mine and for a moment lower, his cheeks growing a deep scarlet as he clears his throat, “You… you have gotten a lot better at this since we last danced.” 

“I would hope so. That was three years ago… I was the head dancer at the theatre for a reason.” I offer with a slightly indifferent shrug. This close I’m acutely aware of the slight few inches of height I have on Asra, usually completely unnoticeable but when we’re almost nose to nose like this I can feel how my eyes lower to his, bearing deep into mine like an icicle fallen into a snowbank. 

“I didn’t know you were the  _ head  _ dancer.” Asra murmurs as we turn in time with the music, his forearms settling on my shoulders and I in turn settle mine on his waist, the one place I can put my hands that won’t make me burst into a red, gooey mess. “That’s quite commendable.” 

“It… was a job I learned to do.” I mutter without commitment. 

Asra’s gaze flickers across my features with an edge of worry that makes my stomach clench. “I’m sorry… I’m sure that’s not something you would want to talk about.”

I shrug, lacing our fingers together as the song changes and the people dancing change with it, slowing down, getting more intimate and cozy. We turn about in the circling crowd of dancers, moving in time and in tandem with others. “It’s alright. It’s just another chapter of my life that’s come to a close. Same can be said for others… I try not to let it bother me.” 

“That’s good. It shouldn’t.” Asra gently cups my cheek overtop of my mask, his lavender hues bearing through mine and into my soul, “You’ve done nothing wrong.” 

I wince a little at that, inadvertently breaking the rhythm we had set to the song. Before we get run into by other dancers Asra takes the lead instead, shifting our roles but moving us along so we don’t lag behind in the movements. I let out a soft noise of appreciation, following his lead willingly in answer once I return to myself. “Sorry, I…” 

“It’s okay.” Asra assures me with a warm smile, his nose lightly bumping against mine in an affectionate manner. I appreciate it, but it just makes the sudden turmoil that threatens to burst out of my chest like black eels all that more painful. I must have made a face, or winced, or made some indication of how I was feeling because Asra notices and touches my face with a murmur, “You look like you need a second. Do you want to take a break?” 

I’m about to shake my head no, but the more I think about it the more I realize that sitting down sounds absolutely marvelous right now. My head is spinning a little, and I’m unsure why. “As much as I like you leading… yeah. Yeah, perhaps a small break would be nice.” I murmur.

Asra chuckles softly and nods; with a surprisingly skilled step he pulls us out of the dancing pattern and into the outskirt watchers, moving an arm to surround my waist as he guides me toward the back wall, where a series of lounge couches are spread. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs as we weave through the throngs of revelers, “The night is young, and there is plenty of time yet for me to lead.” 

I laugh softly and shake my head at him playfully, even though the action makes my head swim a little more than before. The lights blur together and I find myself leaning a little more on Asra’s arm. He sets me down on one of the long-ish couches, encouraging me to prop my feet up and lie on the cushions with gentle, coaxing touches before he rests a hand gently on my knee, “I’m going to get you something to drink, okay? I’ll be right back.” I hum with a grateful look as he cups my cheek gently before disengaging. I didn’t really want him to leave, but I have to admit… in that costume, I don’t mind watching him go. 

I close my eyes after a moment in an attempt to relax and will this sudden onset of unsettling nausea to pass, shifting to lie back on the couch to let the stillness wash over me. It works for some time, restoring the sudden unease that had built up in my veins and applied pressure in my skull. That is, until a sudden, brash, clamor of voices start coalescing in my direction and fracture my peace. I open my eyes and watch as a gaggle of richly dressed nobility walk past my place on the couch, swishing ornate wine glasses at hand and all in all spritely laughing amongst themselves without a bubbly care. It gives me a small amount of joy; it’s like seeing a group of kids laughing while running down the street, their attitudes are just so simple and pure that even though they are disturbing me by standing right next to my seat, I can’t bring myself to be too upset about it. 

In the center of it all is a male presenting figure with the most galling red and gold costume I’ve yet laid my eyes on, no one else’s clothes are so scarlet or so flashy or so gilded, I can hardly tell where the man begins and the luxury ends. He turns in my direction while saying something I can’t catch with a loud, flashy sweep over his shoulder and for a moment our eyes lock, even as I’m now half sitting up due to the disturbance I can’t help but feel suddenly pinned beneath his gaze, silver like unicorn blood. 

“Scourge? Scourge, is that you?” The man suddenly cries, pushing through the people he had gathered around himself as he shoves his way towards me. I sit up fully, touching my feet on the floor as I look at the man with a stunned expression when he comes up short once he’s standing just in front of me. “Oh. You’re not the Scourge.” He huffs with a curl of his lip. 

“... No, I am not.” I answer with as much perplexity as I think the other man feels, “Your friend has a strange name.” 

The man blinks at me with a stunned expression, and in that moment I become acutely aware of his little squadron of noble friends having all fallen silent, watching me with oblique looks of investigation, sizing me up, picking me apart. “I… Well, Scourge isn’t my friend. We’re more like uh… business partners…?” He tilts his head at me and squints as if he’s staring at the sun, tilting his head to the side with his mask, decorated with so many gems that if a light hit him just right he could literally light up the room, adjusted just off of his nose, “You don’t look anything like him now that I’m really looking at you. You’re far too tiny.” 

Unsure of what exactly to say to that I hold my hands flat on my knees. “If you say so.” 

Just then one of the nobles behind the loudly dressed one, another masculine presenting person in a broad ballgown adorned with many layers of black cloth, very much an inky, slimy looking figure seems to almost squeal, “Don’t tell me you don’t know of Scourge! You know,  _ the Scourge of the South?”  _

I shift with my hands a little uncomfortably, “Uh, no. I don’t really know politics-” I can’t get much a word in edgewise as the cohort of nobility rise in an uproar, lamenting at  _ how  _ I  _ possibly  _ could  _ not know  _ who the  _ Scourge  _ is. 

However, much to my surprise, the one who I expected to have the most appalled reaction is the quietest. The red-costumed leader of the bunch doesn’t even need to wave the others down to earn their silence, for some reason the others are so keenly attuned to him that as soon as he opens his mouth they all fall silent. “Now normally it would hurt my feelings that you don’t know my greatest gladiator in my arena, but since you’re cute I’ll let it slide.” Internally this gets my thoughts whirring a mile a minute but before I can get beyond  _ wait the colosseum still has gladiator fights  _ the man extends a hand to me, “In fact, since I’m sure you’d want an opportunity to make it up to me… I’d love a dance.”

I can’t help but stare at his hand for a moment because of its sheer complexity. At first I thought he was wearing some sort of ornate glove but on closer inspection I realize this man’s hand - or rather his whole left arm - is a solid gold prosthetic with weaves of intricate alchemic energy shining through the seams with hums of bright white light. The tips are clawed and sharp, looking at them I have no doubt that he would be able to seriously injure something with this hand alone.  _ This hand must have cost him a fortune. It’s probably worth more than every single thing I’ve ever laid my hands on and then some. _

I raise an eyebrow at him and internally scoff as I stand upright without touching his hand. “I’m sure you would.” The man is not so short as I thought he was sitting down, however - we are directly eye to eye - but it does make me feel better that I’m no longer looking up at this person. Something about his mannerisms, the way that he called it  _ his arena…  _ leaves a bad taste in my mouth. 

The man blinks once. Twice. “Ex _ cuse me?”  _

“I said I’m sure you would.” I repeat for him helpfully as I turn to look over his shoulder and at the entryway, where Asra had disappeared, “But I’m afraid I’m already waiting here for my…” I falter.  _ Oh shit. I never… Is Asra my partner? My good friend? My  _ **_really_ ** _ good friend? I feel like we’ve gone past that - if I actively kiss Asra and only want to kiss Asra, that makes him my partner doesn’t it? Yes it does. I’ll go with that for now, but I should check with him on it later.  _ “... For my partner to come back.” I finish, looking back to meet the noble’s wide eyes. 

One of the nobles behind him, the same, slimy one with the black robes and the sickly pallor - someone who is paler than me has certainly got to be ill - gasps again with the same tone of incredulousness as before, “Are you  _ refusing  _ a dance with the-” 

“Hey, it’s your decision.” The man suddenly says while cutting off the one behind him, though he in particular doesn’t look too put off everyone in his collective behind him certainly does. “I didn’t mean to assume anything… but I’m a simple man, when I see something I like, I want it to stay close.” The man touches one of his clawed fingers to my jaw and for a moment I get a distinct sense of danger, not because I think this man is about to attack me, but something about near him seems to activate my inner defenses. He in particular is not someone to cause trouble… but trouble feels like it revolves around him. Like he is the eye of a chaotic tempest. “So I have to ask… just one dance?” He speaks with a surprising casual tongue, at least for someone who is clearly nobility, and raised eyebrows, a broad smile illuminating wicked canines behind his lips. 

I really want to say no. I truly do, but something about this weird, overly bombastic noble is making my inner, curious cub itch to come forth. I could hang whatever these weird rich people flocking him think of me, same to him, frankly, but there’s just something about him that’s so… familiar. I can’t shake it, and what I can’t shake I pursue for closure. Asra will understand; he’ll probably laugh with me about it once I tell him about this. “Just one.” I grip the man’s prosthetic under my chin and lower its grasp away from my jaw, not forcefully but with intent, “And don’t touch me without permission.”

I hear a suction of breath from behind the count as that same stupid noble is about to throw a fuss again but they don’t even get a single word out before the man is practically purring, “... Yes sir. You’re really much more interesting than I first thought.” His hand drops to his side with the weight I’m sure it bears as his eyes crinkle in the corners before he gestures to the side, towards the dance floor. I walk with him with a straight back and a straight face, though I realize I needn’t bother since my mask covers most of mine anyway but it’s honestly more for me than it is for him.  _ What a strange man.  _

When the music strikes the man, true to my request, holds out his arms to me to dance but doesn’t touch me, merely cocking an eyebrow with a broad, knowing smirk that kindles a deep reservoir of my wrath from someplace far flung and half-forgotten. I step in but take lead, just like before I scan the dancers around us to get a feel for the dance before leading the noble in the same. Unlike Asra, however, this man fights me the whole while. He tries to take leading steps that nearly end with me kicking him, or when he does finally follow me it’s not to move with the dance but rather to move with me, throwing me off my rhythm. It’s like he’s alright with following me, but only if I prove to him that I’m worth following.

So I try to keep it interesting.

“I’ve never seen you around here before. Why is that?” The man pipes up as he fights me for dominance, sliding a hand to rest on my waist. 

I wouldn’t have let him if it weren’t for the other dancers all doing the same thing. “Maybe I have and you just haven’t noticed me.” I reply enigmatically, cautious, testing the waters. I need to find out exactly what it is about this man that draws me in; once I’m satisfied, it’s time to find Asra and go on with the fun part of the night. 

“I would have noticed you. You got this whole broody thing going on, all mysterious and aloof… it’s pretty hot.” I blink and look at the man with an incredulous look as he peers right back with a challenging gaze, almost as if he’s daring me to tell him he’s wrong. 

Instead I clear my throat and try to hide my embarrassment. “I uh… I’ve never gone to the Masquerade before. My old job used to keep me from coming… until this year. And this time, the Countess invited me.”

I was hoping an implied relationship with the Countess, one of the top people in noble circles, would earn me some sort of point from this stranger to garner me some respect but he doesn’t seem at all phased. “Nadi invited you? That explains the clothes. I recognize her designs anywhere. She’s not as good as I am but she knows what high quality looks like.” He gestures to himself as he does this, showcasing every inch of the gaudy display that would take years to truly map out and understand it’s so… loud. And complex. 

“You certainly wear your high opinion of yourself more than any other accessory.” I observe, turning us about the ballroom while keeping an eye out of the corner of my eye for Asra. I’m not sure the time it takes to get a drink here; I don’t want him to think I’ve abandoned him. 

“Of course I do, I’m perfect!” The man proclaims with a surprising amount of authenticity that I’m left looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes, “Whatever I apply myself to, I’m amazing at. Especially combat. Oh, I could talk about that for hours.” He looks at me then with a lecherous raise in his brow, pressing us closer as we dance when he speaks in a lower voice, “I bet you would know a little something about that, wouldn’t you?” 

Internally I stiffen. Furrowing my eyebrows, I deftly shake my head, “No, I’m no fighter. I just sell things.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” The noble wrestles the lead from me and starts to guide me through the dance instead, bursting with sudden turmoil I can’t help but let him. “I was a mercenary band captain before I came to this city, you know. I know the eyes of a killer when I see them.” 

A frozen dagger digs into my gut as the world starts to feel like it’s spinning out of control, I let out a sudden hiss of breath, “I’ve never… I would never… That’s not me. I’m from the north, there are no mercenaries there.”

_ “Right… _ Why’d you tell me if you didn’t have something to hide?” My heart swallows itself in my throat as the man keeps going with a twisted sneer, “So, what was it? Were you a soldier or something? That would explain the attitude… thinking you’re too good to be ‘reduced’ to the level of merc. I always hated people like that.” He presses in closer and bares his teeth in another shiver-inducing smile, “But I don’t think you’re much for following orders, are you? No, you’re a rebel, that’s the only way that you would dare stand up to me back there, I can tell… But you haven’t even been to my arena, so what kind of merc would you have been if you didn’t revel in a little blood-letting-”

“Stop talking.” I snap, if it weren’t for this man leading the heart-racing dance I know for a fact I would’ve accidentally stepped on someone by now, I’m barely conscientious of anyone in this room besides the person in front of me. “ I stood up to you because I will not be tread upon. You are  _ bold  _ to assume that having just met me you can make such…  _ vile assumptions  _ and call it fact! I’m no- … I’m no murderer.” 

The man narrows his eyes at me disbelievingly, tsking under his breath before he shrugs, “Say whatever you got to to make yourself feel better.” My face begins to pale as the man’s gaze skirts across my feature before his hands settle on my shoulder and my waist, the claws of his prosthetic digging into the material as if to hold me close. “You can’t fool me. Blood’s a funny thing… it sticks with you no matter how many times you wash your hands. Most people don’t even see it… except other people who wear it, too. You should be proud. Nothing is more powerful than taking someone’s life away from them permanently.” I stare at him with growing, crawling, thrashing horror as his colorless eyes like the edge of a blade gleam in the colorful lights, “Maybe that’s why you and I are so connected… like attracts like. You feel it too, don’t you? That’s why you agreed to dance with me even though I called you tiny.” 

I can’t take anymore. The song is just about to end, and this is a good an opportunity as ever to escape. Shaking my head violently and tearing myself away from the nobleman’s grasp, politeness be damned I hiss, “For one dance. And one dance only.” I twist on heel and turn in the direction of the doorway, marching with full purpose to  _ get out.  _ I hear the man behind me calling me back, something about knowing my name, but I could not be  _ paid _ to continue that conversation. 

Instead I go on the hunt for the one thing that can make me feel better. 

As soon as I walk out of the ballroom I start to wonder where I can go in search of Asra’s trail but find I need not have bother; Asra is walking down the hall with a glass in his hand, and much to my surprise a familiar face is walking with him at his elbow, but I don’t pay her any mind as I head straight for Asra and grapple him in a hug. 

He spots me a second too late, my arms are already thrown about him by the time he speaks, “Oh! Hey, Jamie- what’s wrong? Are you alright?” His arms wrap around my back, I feel one of his hands splayed against my ribcage and it’s the greatest sensation in the world. 

I quickly nod. In his arms, everything feels okay. I feel safe, I feel warm, I feel loved unconditionally, and after that interaction an Asra-certified hug was all that could return me to a sustainably positive mood. Giving him one last large squeeze for almost entirely my own benefit I release him and awkwardly glance over to our mutual friend next to him, “I apologize for my rudeness… I’m alright. Just got a bit of separation anxiety in this place, I suppose… It’s all a little overwhelming. Nadia, how are you?” 

The Countess is absolutely radiant; her costume is an elegant, teal gown with spiderwebs of silver stretched all across its surface, reminiscent of her spidery mask that’s held by a web of pearls that cascade across Nadia’s beautiful, tyrian purple hair curled in rivers and rings. “Jamie… I’m so pleased to see you.” Her gaze rakes my form in a searching manner, her fingertip gracing the deep red of her lips as she speaks pensively, “I know it must feel very overwhelming. Asra told me that this is your first Masquerade.” Her gaze locks on my face, I feel like she’s committing my visage in the diamond-crusted mask to memory as she hums, “I hope that the costume is to your liking?”

I nod and immediately give her a swift nod, “Absolutely, I never could have done better myself. I’m deeply grateful, thank you.” 

I give her a deep bow, as I had seen others do to her, but before I can get too deep in the gesture her bejeweled hand enters my field of vision. “No need for such formalities among friends, Jamie.” Her thumb and forefinger gently cup my chin and with a guiding hand she lifts my face back up to meet hers. She gazes at me with a hooded expression, amusement and something else that I can’t place dancing through her crimson eyes as she hums, “My, how you do look… particularly handsome adorned in diamonds.” To my surprise when she releases my face her own becomes a deep rouge, with an uncertain look thrown to the side she murmurs in a thoughtful tone, “If such compliments are welcome.” 

I can’t help but smile a little at this. “You’re my friend, or so you said. I take and believe compliments from friends.” 

As Nadia smiles with relief Asra pushes the drink he was holding into my palm, his hand lingering at the small of my back. When I look down into it I see water licking the sides and immediate relief courses through my veins as I swallow it like I was lost in the desert for days and this is my first source. “Take it easy, now.” Asra chuckles, though there is an edge of worry to his tone. I glance over at him and when his soft lavender eyes lock onto mine I feel a pulsing heat of embarrassment flood through my being, though I’m not exactly sure why. “Did something happen that upset you?” Asra asks softly, so that only he and Nadia can hear, “You seem a little… off.” 

I huff, lowering the glass as I attempt to gather my thoughts. “I just had the strangest interaction with this nobleman. He must be drunk or something, he was saying all sorts of strange things…” 

Asra’s eyebrows furrow in worry, “What kind of things?”

Nadia counters with another question, “Did you know this person?”

I address Nadia first simply because it’s an easier question to answer, “No, I’ve never laid eyes on him before in my life. He at first thought I was someone else but quickly learned that I was not, but decided to talk to me anyway.” I try to select something he said that was strange that wasn’t from our dance, not wanting to think again about the implications.  _ ‘That’s why you and I are so connected… like attracts like.’  _ “He was just so… weird. I’ve never interacted with people like that before… he had this whole little party of people following him around… I don’t think they liked me very much, even though their leader did. At least I think so…” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me curiously as Nadia’s eyes fall close. With a soft sigh she releases the sudden, wound up tension in her shoulders and when her crimson gaze reopens they lock onto mine, and there’s a new gleam of distaste within them. “Tell me, what did this man look like?” 

I release an incredulous breath, “He’s impossible to miss. Not a square inch of him isn’t covered in gold or red. He’s even got a gold prosthetic, he must be… well,  _ rich  _ rich. And he acts like it, too, but not in a posh way. Just in a… arrogant, childish sort of way.” Both Asra and Nadia bristle at this, they share a look with one another that prompts a spike of worry in my gut, “What? What is it?”

Nadia rests her hand on her collarbone as she takes a weary sigh, looking as if she wishes for a wine glass to be in her hands as she speaks, “I’m certain that the man you met is my husband… Count Lucio.” 

I blink once. Twice. “That was the  _ Count?”  _ I whirl my head back in the direction of the doorway and immediately grimace, “Oh…  _ shit. _ Good thing he didn’t get my name…” 

“Definitely for the best.” Asra murmurs beside me. 

I barely hear him as I turn back around then and rest my hands on my hips, “How does a mercenary captain become the Count of Vesuvia, exactly?”

“He told you about that, did he?” Nadia curls her lip distastefully, “He’s proud of his battle prowess. It has led for him to be useful in ending the war, fortunately… if he can manage to stay out on the field long enough to make that actually come to pass.”

“As for how he finessed his way to the top, he did it with dirty tricks, just like all power hungry people do.” I blink in shock when I hear the absolute contempt in Asra’s voice, glancing over at him I can see it reflected in the starlight in his eyes, in the furrow of his brow. 

I hate that look. I take a step forward and smooth the furrow between Asra’s brow with my fingertips before I suddenly remember we’re out in public and immediately I falter, instead straightening Asra’s perfectly aligned mask as I change subjects, “Well, on the bright side, I feel a little better, but I could really go for some food.” 

“The best you’ll find is in the dining room.” Nadia offers helpfully, a gleam of amusement in her eyes as her shoulders slide back, “I should return to the ballroom… someone ought to ensure that my husband doesn’t try to start a dance line again.” 

“It was wonderful to see you, Nadia.” Asra nods to her with a smile as she disappears back into the ballroom with a smile of her own. When she is gone, Asra’s hand winds into mine secretively, gliding down my jacket sleeve until his fingers interlace with mine. “Let’s go try out the food, shall we?” Asra asks with a poised brow. 

I can’t help but flash him a matching smile, simply glad to be back in his presence and to leave the events of the ballroom behind me.  _ Far  _ behind me. “We shall!”

…

After the unfortunate encounter with the Count that left my paranoia spiking to formerly unseen levels, I didn’t think that I could manage to have a genuinely good time at the Masquerade, though I was willing to try and fake it for Asra’s sake. But, it turns out that once we were occupied with other things, I’d forget all about what happened in the ballroom and turned my performed good time into an authentic good time. It’s hard not to enjoy myself when I’m with Asra, though; he is a fun person to be with, and combined with fun activities, fun people, and fun places to explore? It was the perfect recipe for a wonderful evening. We returned to the dance floor after exploring all the palace had to offer - there was a mirror maze that we had a lot of fun exploring, a brand new ‘bubble room’ that was  _ interesting  _ to say the least, and plenty more. By the time we got there the dancing in the ballroom had devolved from the fancy pairings into the singular mass of people simply having a good time and moving their bodies accordingly. We don’t linger there long after acquiring some alcoholic drinks, they leave my cheeks warm and my tongue bursting with colors, for after that point we decided to head back to the room; for most of the party patrons were either smashed, gone, or passed out, leaving us as the last people standing. 

Well, almost standing… I may have drunk a little too much and am finding my balance hard to keep, though Asra is doing admirably to help me stay upright. He helps me inside with an arm wrapped firm around my waist, chuckling as I try to shut the door behind us and nearly close us both onto it. I do so in a hurry as Asra disengages, pulling off the golden rings around his arms and setting them on the now barren desk. I catch up to him and wrap an arm around his waist, pressing in closer to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, too giddy to keep my hands off of him now that we’re alone. “Oh, hey.” Asra hums in slight surprise, he turns more in my direction as he sets down the ornaments with something playful and mischievous illuminating his lavender gaze, “You missed.”

I feel my face heat up a little as I play a little coy. “Did I? Maybe there was where I was aiming.”

“Well, that may be where  _ you’re  _ aiming…” Asra takes a step closer, making us almost entirely nose to nose as his gaze ripples like a still pond at night, “I’ve got another target in mind.” With that he closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine, his fingers interlocking behind my neck as he holds my face tenderly in his hands, just beneath the mask. I shiver and close my eyes, sinking into the kiss like one sinks into warm water after a long day. I press closer, his lips part in response as he deepens the kiss, our masks briefly knock together with the movement. 

Now that our night at the Masquerade is over, we don’t have to wear them anymore, so I pull away from Asra just long enough to take off my mask and then take off his, wanting to his face unobscured. In the low candle light his features gleam like shined brass, his lips are slick and appealing and beautiful and soft, drawing me in like a moth to flame I cup his revealed features in both of my hands and kiss him again. Asra shivers beneath my touch and kisses me back, much to my surprise his hands gravitate to my wrists just beneath his face and hold me there, his fingertips dragging on the outside of my tunic’s material. 

I don’t realize I’m moving until Asra’s back presses against the wall and he releases a breathy murmur against my parted, panting lips. Some sort of panic arises in my bloodstream that as soon as I hear him I blink and disengage, looking at him with wide eyes I mutter, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I… are you okay?”

Asra’s eyes open slowly like when he first wakes up in the morning. His face is a little flushed and gaze is completely ethereal, it takes my breath away until he speaks in a voice that sounds forlorn and confused, “Of course, I… Why did you pull away?” 

I blink stupidly. “I-I’m sorry?” 

Asra straightens slightly, his back still pressed to the wall he regards me with a confused, slightly troubled gaze. “You always pull away when we get together like this… Like you’re afraid you’re going to hurt me.” I flush, floundering a little as Asra continues with a soft voice, “I just want to know if you’re okay. If this is too fast, I’d much rather we slowed down than… I don’t know.” His eyes flicker downwards and away with a pained glimmer within the gentle hues as he murmurs, “I don’t want to risk losing you.”

Something tight in my chest snaps as I quickly shake my head. “No, no, it’s… it’s not like that at all, I…” I rub my forearms uncomfortably, flickering my gaze to the side as I speak in a low register, “I… I  _ am  _ scared I might accidentally hurt you, I guess.” Asra’s eyebrows furrow as he watches me closely, so I continue with a soft voice like I’m revealing a secret, “I’ve never felt the way that I feel about you before. It’s weird, but in a good way, I’m just… I don’t know how to read signals of whether you like what I do or if you don’t like it. When I start to feel too good, I worry that might mean you’re not feeling good, or that I’m trapping you in the situation, or… I don’t know. I just know that I couldn’t bear it if I did something you didn’t like and didn’t stop because I didn’t understand you didn’t like it.” I closely inspect my boots, suddenly feeling like a prepped peacock in this attire. “So I just… pull away before that can happen, I guess.” 

“Oh Jamie…” I look up when I see movement and shiver when Asra’s hands move to cup my face. He slides his fingertips through my hair before he starts to undo the braids I had decorated myself with, letting my hair down loose as he begins to whisper to me in a soft voice, I can see his lips moving but little else in the low candlelight, “I wish you had told me this was how you felt earlier… I love everything that we do together. No matter what it is… if you’re happy doing it, then so am I. Nothing gives me more joy than seeing you smile.” I flush in embarrassment as his fingers rake through my hair comfortingly, settling it to hang on my shoulders and down my back as his hands then settle on my collar, loosening it idly between his fingertips, “Would it be helpful to you if I were to tell you when I like it when you do something?” 

I nod, closing my eyes and leaning slightly into his touch before I murmur, “I… I feel bad that that’s necessary. Other people seem able to read cues so easily…” 

“Other people also cannot change their shape like you do. You’re unique and uncomparable.” Asra reminds me with a sweet, sincere voice, making my cheeks feel warm, “Then what if… would you tell me if you liked something I did to you?” I blink at this, flickering my gaze to Asra’s to see it skirting my form in a search light, it’s an expression I’ve seen a few times before but have never been able to identify. “I… I think about doing things with you, too, Jamie. I also get nervous too, wondering if they are things that you would want… So I haven’t acted on them to air on the side of caution.” I touch Asra’s hand that rests on my shoulder as he continues with an embarrassed creep across his features, “I know that this is all very new for you, what we have, and I didn’t want to scare you away by moving us too fast or… pushing you farther than you were ready for.” 

I loosely wrap my fingers around Asra’s hand, pulling it towards my lips before softly kissing the inside of his wrist, right where I can feel his pulse. Asra stares at me with wide eyes as I regard him seriously, “You shouldn’t worry about moving too fast with me. Any time you’ve done something, I’ve loved it… a lot. You don’t have to worry about me running out on you. If by some strange twist of fate I didn’t like something you did, I’d tell you. I haven’t because you haven’t made me feel uncomfortable. So… I guess what I’m trying to say is… don’t hold back on my account.” 

Asra’s free hand touches my jaw, resting just next to my chin as his gaze seems to follow the curve of my brow, “Oh… Wow. Well, Jamie…” Asra purrs suddenly as his thumb glides across my bottom lip, “... You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

With his free hand pressed against my chest he starts to guide me backwards, one foot after the other with his hands braced on my chest before my knee hits the bed. I sink back willingly, keeping myself perched on my elbows. I flush like blood down a white drain as Asra hovers over me, his hands on my chest start to undo the fastening buttons by my throat as he crawls over me, wedging himself between my thighs in a manner that’s so attractive and intimate I gasp, unable to help myself. 

He notices this and cocks an eyebrow at me playfully, the hooded light in his gaze flickering dangerously like a lighthouse flame as he leans in close, his lips merely inches from mine as he whispers, “You said you liked it when I take the lead, didn’t you?” 

I swallow thick on my tongue as he joins me on the bed, his hands brace on my thighs wrapped on either side of his waist as he slides me back into the soft, silken sheets to accommodate the movement. And I let him.  _ God  _ do I let him. I nod enthusiastically, sudden hunger digs into my bones and my breath and my thoughts as I lean upwards to get closer to him, to bring his lips to mine as I whisper, “Please do.” 

Asra’s face is shrouded in the muted candlelight but I can tell he’s a deep shade of red, though not for long as his hands glide to my open hips when he presses closer. This time when Asra kisses me there’s a fire behind his tongue that I’ve never felt before, an insistent need, burning want as tangible as his tunic beneath my fingertips. My head spins and my breath is stolen entirely as Asra’s hands dance up my chest, feeling me overtop the tunic and making gooseflesh arise in their place after him, my body reacts on every level to his touch. My hands shake before they burst into action, finally letting myself touch and grab and caress the exposed portrait of Asra’s back like I’ve been wanting to all night.

Asra’s lips barely part from mine to gasp for air as his hands disengage from my chest to instead undo the clasp of his tunic, his gaze shrouded in dark mauve as he lets the front fall free, exposing him entirely to the light. I gawk for longer than is probably appropriate, staring at every dip and curve of his chest that I’ve seen plenty of times while clothed but never like this, never all at once. I hold out my hands as Asra fiddles with the back of the tunic to get it off, once he pulls it over his head and lets it drop to the floor beside us I manage a hoarse whisper, “Asra…” His gaze had never left mine, but when I say his name the lavender light seems to intensify and hold me at his mercy beneath him, I barely manage to find my voice in time to ask what I must ask before I explode, “Can… can I touch you?” 

Asra shivers, I can feel it between my thighs now resting on top of his as he sits slightly on his heels. He looks down at me with an angelic, ethereal expression before he leans over me, planting his hands on either side of my head as he whispers back, his breath misting the air between us,  _ “Please touch me.”  _

Something about Asra speaking this way, desperate, wanting, thirsty and unashamed of it…  _ does something  _ to me. Heat captures me as if in a flaming net as my hands rest first on Asra’s abdomen before I let them rise, trailing his skin slowly, savoring every inch beneath my naked palms as they glide up his chest, then back down again, to his sides, to his back. All the while Asra’s eyes are glued to mine, watching, letting me explore him with the curiosity of a lost pup… before he leans lower. As soon as he’s close I lean back up and kiss him again, a new layer of heat lathered on top of the first when I feel the muscles in his shoulders moving beneath the pads of my fingers, unadulterated by cloth but laid bare for me.  _ Just for me. _

His lips part with a hungry noise as he delves deeper into the kiss, his hands grasping first my face and then trailing lower, to my neck, to my shoulders. I shiver when his palm rests heavily on my throat and when our gazes lock everything grows so real all of a sudden, tangible, definite. “Do you want me to touch you?” Asra asks with a husky undertone to his voice unlike any I’ve heard, his fingers dancing along my loosened collar and along the buttons of my tunic. Implying what he wants in a way I can finally wrap my head around.

I think about it, but as soon as the thought of Asra’s hands on my bare chest rises from the miasma of other, heady thoughts already circulating, I can’t get my mind off it, not until I can learn the sensation.  _ Should be fine so long as we’re facing each other…  _ I nod after swallowing nothing but dry air, and shift to unbutton my tunic. 

It takes longer, surprisingly, with both of us trying to take the tunic off because we keep accidentally getting in each other’s way, but before long my tunic joins his on the floor and we’re in nothing but our trousers, shoes long forgotten by the door. I’m normally not all that self conscious, especially around Asra but it feels so stark to have him feverishly undressing me, I can’t help but wonder how I’m a sight that’s exciting to be seen. I don’t get much time with these thoughts as the new skin exposed for almost immediately Asra’s hands get to work, I shiver when I feel his fingertips drag up my sides and to my shoulders, through the fine hair adorning my chest and down to the small trail along my abdomen. Exploration, touching, shivering, gasping as his lips on mine send my thoughts spiraling into the skies. 

My hands occupy themselves feeling his chest as well, intent on memorizing every dip and curve, learning what makes his stomach jump and what makes his breath catch. Caressing his nipples with the back of my knuckles awards me a soft whine that I want to hear repeated until the end of time so I do it again, and again, and again until I start rubbing them with my thumbs, testing what’s nice, testing to see what he’ll do. 

What he does is gravitate his lips to my jawline to moan into my ear, a sound I’ve never heard but one I want to hear again and again for the rest of my life. “I love your hands on me, Jamie.” Asra whispers. As I tweak the supple flesh between my fingertips he lets out a soft gasp before his teeth tug on my earlobe; strange, but  _ good.  _ So  _ so good  _ it leaves me quaking beneath him, this is what him feeling wanted must feel like. But before I can try and elicit more sounds from him he shifts downward slightly and out of my grip, pressing our chests flush together as his lips start to leave open-mouthed kisses along my throat.

It’s new, it’s tantalizing, it’s strange, I rake my fingertips through Asra’s soft, moonlight hair as his attention diverts to the skin of my neck. His hands shift downward and hold me still by my ribcage, his fingertips gentle and searching as his kisses grow in heat, making my face erupt in a matching manner. “Jamie…” My name falling from Asra’s lips makes a spike of heat pierce through my head and down my body, igniting my blood along the way as his gaze meets mine, and his hands glide down to hover on my hips. “I want to touch you more… I want to kiss you more… further down.” Asra’s lips dance overtop of mine only briefly, barely any pressure, just enough to snatch my complete attention as his fingertips hover just above the waistline of my pants, winding and unwinding themselves in the small trail of soft hair. “Here.” He whispers again, I can taste his tongue on my lips as I desperately try to keep myself from surging forward to taste it again. “May I?” He asks, his gaze hooded and full of want. 

It takes me an embarrassing amount of time to realize exactly what he’s asking for. “O-oh!” I declare, swallowing as sudden embarrassment seizes my being, “Are… are you sure that’s something you want to do?” 

_ “Yes.”  _ Asra whispers without hesitation, his gaze is shrouded in…  _ want. _ His hands cup my neck as he continues to leave more of these heated kisses along my skin, I start with a gasp when I suddenly feel his hips bear down on mine and build the pressure there, already within the extreme.  _ Oh my God. He wants me. He wants to… He wants to touch me. He sounds like he’s  _ **_starving_ ** _ to touch me.  _

_ Is this real?  _

“O-Okay.” I murmur, suddenly finding it rather difficult to catch my breath as I skirt my hands up and down his sides, “Just… don’t hurt yourself or anything, okay? If you want to stop or anything…” 

“I will. Don’t worry, I know my limits.” Asra murmurs comfortingly, pressing a soft kiss to my lips so unlike the ones we have been sharing but it makes my head spiral into a lavender abyss nonetheless. With my permission Asra’s hands starts to slide down my body, starting first with my chest as his lips return to my throat before they glide lower, and lower, until they’re resting just on top of my pants, on top of… me. “You have no idea how long I’ve ached to do this to you. Even just tonight… watching you dance, watching you move in your costume, not even knowing how tempting you are to me… To others…” Asra whispers, his teeth grazing a vein in my throat as his tongue fishes for my pulse. I shiver, suddenly feeling like I’m on a tight rope I occupy myself with running my hands through Asra’s angelically soft hair and across the beautiful skin of his shoulders. 

He chuckles as he moves to lie beside me rather than on top of me, his mouth nor his hands never leaving me as he gently nibbles on a stretch of my shoulders, giving me a clear view of his hands on me. “It was satisfying. All of those people watching you, wanting you, but here I am… lucky enough to touch you. You’re so beautiful, Jamie.” He drags his lips across my shoulder and to my pulse, leaving a sweet kiss there as my blood seems to burn and blister under his attentions. Propping himself on his elbow his lips continue to kiss the side of my neck and my shoulder as his other hand below starts to glide, up and down, finding me beneath the cloth until the outline is clearly displayed for us both to see. My face could not get any redder, from the embarrassment of being known and from the heat that throbs within me from that knowledge becoming known because of- 

“Ah, look at you. So hard for me.” Asra whispers into my ear, his breath ghosts my hair and skin and sends shocks of heat straight into the subject of his attentions between my legs. He sounds so…  _ pleased  _ about it. Like I just gave him a present. I feel his teeth graze the shell of my ear as he continues in a lewd, almost obscene tone, “Do you like it when I tell you these things…?” His hand starts to move, I watch the predictable path with wide eyes and held breath as he slips it beneath the waistband of my trousers. I start, jumping with a gasp when I feel his fingers wrap around my length and start to move, maneuvering my trousers slightly down to unclothe me further. 

Asra chuckles as he presses soft kisses to my shoulder when I sit up more, my hands claw at the sheets when I try to keep myself contained as the pleasure that had begun to simmer and shake now burns straight into my veins like a brand. “You’re so sensitive.” Asra whispers, this time when his tongue presses against my jawline and sucks at my skin, combined with the sweet pleasure his hand is giving me, I find my eyes fluttering shut with a short breath, soft hiccups of sound escaping from between my lips against my will. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks with soft amusement, his hand dancing between my legs and his lips curving into a smile where they hover by my temple.

_ “Yes.”  _ I pant in response almost immediately, turning in his direction and leaning closer in search for his lips, starving and desperate to kiss him. When I press my lips hungrily to his, he lets out a soft sigh against me and shifts closer, I find myself swallowing on a moan as his hand stroking me starts to set a pace that’s making my toes curl and my breath hitch and stammer against him. 

He indulges me for a moment, kissing me while pleasuring me until I’ve begun to saturate in the pure bliss, then he disengages with one last kiss; his words are so breathless that I wonder if this is exerting more on him than I would’ve thought, “The noises you make, Jamie… Do you have any idea how attractive you sound right now?” Asra bites his lip as if to shut himself up, his face is such a bright red it’s easy to see even in the low light as he maneuvers to hover over me once more. I don’t get more than a brief moment of a kiss before he starts shifting downwards, I start when his shoulders push apart my thighs. He glances up at me and raises an eyebrow questioningly, “Is this alright?”

I shiver, gasping with wide eyes at how vulnerable this position is but once he lies there, subtly rubbing his hands along my thighs in a soothing manner, I manage to nod with a nervous swallow. “Y-yeah. If you’re good, then I’m…  _ really  _ good…” I bite my lip, trying to hide how desperate I sound behind a bewildered tone. 

All Asra does in response in smile broadly, as pleased with himself as if I’d given him a compliment. Asra’s hands,  _ both  _ of them now, start to stroke my length as he watches me with close attention. It’s  _ smothering,  _ his gaze pinning me down and his hands trying to pull me into the clouds, I’m left gasping with my lips parted and my breath long departed as I stammer, “O-oh God As-” I silence myself with a hand over my mouth at the last second. 

He smirks at me with a mischievous glint in his eye that sends a permanent shiver down my spine, “Come now, Jamie… Let me hear your beautiful voice.” His lavender eyes never leave mine as he shifts forward a little, pinning one of my legs beneath him while his tongue, pink and glistening, appears from between his teeth and swirls around the head of my length, the slow and lustful actions of a person with all the time in the world to make me come apart at the seams. 

My fingertips drag on my bottom lip, letting my voice be heard as requested, as a low groan is yanked from the back of my throat, transfixed by the stunning sight before me. His eyelashes fan across his beautiful cheekbones as he peppers kisses along the length, his tongue darting out to send a flashflood of heat through my body before he pauses at the tip. Making direct eye contact with me he smirks slightly and whispers, his lips moving against the sensitive head, “Talk to me… tell me what feels good.” With that his lips part all the way and he engulfs me, swallowing on the tip. 

I nearly up and cry out at the sensation alone, the sudden warmth and heat trapped around me, the absoluteness of the pleasure that that would cause, I was completely unprepared. “Mfph  _ oh! Oh  _ God. Asra I-  _ ngh.”  _ I bite down hard on my bottom lip, my hips buck at the sensation against my will but Asra holds them down before they can move very far. He glances up at me as he starts to move, pulling me into his throat while his other hand strokes the base and it’s  _ straight. Ecstasy.  _

“‘S…  _ good.  _ I-It feels so good, Asra, I- _ Asra.”  _ I gasp and writhe beneath his touches, it gets to the point he has to hold both of my hips securely in his hands for him to get anything done. While some part of me feels bad for being difficult I’m completely overwhelmed with the sensation of him drawing out something hot and warm and good and  _ amazing.  _

Asra’s lips pop off the top with a soft gasp for air, his hand stroking from head to base with the slick assistance of his saliva, a slick string still clinging to his smirking lower lip as he purrs with a husky voice that’s  _ beyond  _ sensual, borderline obscene, “Just like that, Jamie. Moan for me, tell me how good I’m making you feel.” His breath is hard to catch and sharp, I glance down and realize it’s because it’s not just one of his hands, but both that are busy pleasuring. His other hand is thrust into his trousers, moving slowly but as I watch him return to sucking on me I realize he’s matching the speed of his own touches with the touches he’s burning like wildfire into my blood. 

Something about this knowledge sparks heat in me. I bite on my bottom lip before I think better of it and sputter a plaintive moan as my fingers weave into Asra’s beautiful moonlit hair, gently raking the curls to stay out of his eyes as his mouth suckles against me and his hand starts to coax out something sharper within me. I feel the slow building, the heat in my face spreading throughout my body as the pleasure maximizes and approaches an iron door, a door I desperately want to ram open, a door I desperately want  _ Asra  _ to throw open for me. “I-I’m so close, o-oh God, yes, Asra! Yes, yes…! D-don’t stop sucking m- nhf-  _ Asra…!”  _

The more words that spill out from between my panting lips the faster Asra’s hand and mouth moves, and the faster the tidal wave approaches. I try to warn him, to pull on his hair without actually hurting him but he seems to misinterpret this as he immediately moans at the touch and the vibrations are sent coursing through me, like the ringing of a gong his voice is what brings that wave crashing down upon me. 

I’m no adolescent, I’ve been curious about my body and how it works and have explored it before, but this is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It was more powerful, damn near knocking me unconscious as white and black misty clouds shroud my vision for a solid minute before I manage to open my eyes again. When I sit up I see Asra kneeling over me, his thumb in his mouth as he sucks on something there before his eyes lower to meet mine, an amused lilt in his gaze as he regards me before he speaks with a soft whisper, “Are feeling you alright?”

I nod sluggishly, slowly as I take him in kneeling over me I realize that his trousers, even while unbuttoned and loose, still have a… strained point in the center. I begin to feel my face heat up all over again, knowing what lies beneath and that I’d  _ caused  _ that in him. I was responsible. 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me, biting his lip he leans closer until he’s hovering over me with his legs straddling my waist, “Look at you, got me feeling all hot and bothered…” He leans down close and I start when his teeth nibble on my earlobe,  _ “Wanna help me deal with it?”  _ He asks in a low purr, his hands dragging down my bare chest as he does so. 

I don’t think my face could be more red. The longer I stare at the place between us, at the unfastened button of his trousers, at what I know lies beneath even if I can’t directly see it… the more the apprehension and anxiety in my chest tenses and grows. “I-I don’t think I’m ready for that, yet.” I stammer, suddenly filled with shame. “I’m so sorry, I-”

Asra immediately touches a finger over my lips. I blink up at him as he regards me with a soft expression, an expression I know, to the tender side of Asra I know, as he cups my cheek and speaks with full meaning behind his words, “I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself to me… This was a big step for you tonight, and I’m really proud of how willing you were to try something new.” I feel my shoulders relax as he seals a soft kiss on my temple, his smile genuine and persisting, “Thank you for taking a chance with me.” 

I smile, simply unable to resist as I reach up and kiss him gently with a hand around the back of his neck. He shivers and kisses me in return just as softly, though I can tell through the contact that he’s strained. Suddenly struck with an idea, I take a chance, simply for the sake of equality… or rather, for  _ his  _ sake. “You shouldn’t have to ah… go unfinished, though. I want you to be satisfied, too.” 

Asra raises an eyebrow at me curiously and chuckles, “And what would you suggest?”

I take it back. My face can and will become more red. “W-Well… perhaps you can get yourself to finish. I don’t feel ready to do it myself but I can… help.” I flounder as Asra regards me with a wide eyed, stunned look, “It’s just a thought, I don’t really know.”

He doesn’t refute me, though. He stays silent, regarding me with a pensive gaze before his thumb and his forefinger gently touch my chin, lifting my gaze to stay facing him. “You promise me that you aren’t pushing yourself into uncomfortable territory just on my account?”

I shake my head, “That would be me… trying something.” When Asra raises an eyebrow at me in confusion I let out a huff, “I just… I’ve never seen another person’s… I’m just scared of what I don’t know. I know you, though… and now I know the… sounds you make.” I try not to blush any redder than I no doubt am, though I doubt it’s working. “I want you to feel good… and this is an alternative I think I’m comfortable with for right now. If that’s something you’d like.” 

Asra regards me for a long moment before he beams, letting out a short, amused laugh, “You’re too cute. Yes, I think that that’s something I would like.” He gives me a kiss, a little heavier than the one prior but not quite as desperate as the ones before, before he pushes me back against the cushions, sitting me more upright as he mutters, “Here, lean back against these. I’ll lean on you, and that way you don’t have to see what you don’t want to, but you can still…  _ encourage  _ me.” He starts to turn the slightest shade of carmine as he fixes up the pillows, glancing over at me out of the corner of his eye, “Is that alright?” 

I answer by nodding and shifting to lean in the place he had designated, holding my arms out wide while making a  _ come hither  _ gesture. “C’mere. It’s encouragement time.” 

Asra snorts with a wild laugh, crawling across the bed to join me.  _ “Encouragement time…  _ that’s one way to put it.” He sits down in front of me, shifting to face forward as he cozyies himself into my chest, I shiver as the hypersensitivity of the moments prior make my skin immediately break out into goosebumps. One of Asra’s hands hold onto my knee just on his left side while the other starts to edge its way into his pants, for a moment his breath hitches before his gaze turns and locks squarely on mine, drawing my gaze back to his face. “Are you still sure this is alright?” 

I nod, though I do close my eyes, just in case. I know it’s silly… I feel like it is, at least, being afraid of knowing what Asra looks like in places I’ve never seen, but it fills me with serious apprehension because… It’s not really about what I’d see. It’s more along the lines of if I knew what lay beneath, I’d feel an unimaginable, internalized pressure to do something about it. It opens a new floodgate of new and terrifying experiences, and after only just recently opening one, I need time to accomodate to what I have. 

I shake the thoughts away by nestling closer to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek, dragging my lips then to his jaw. I don’t recall exactly what it was about Asra’s mouth on my neck that was so attractive, but it was driving me wild, and I want to give him the same treatment. He seems to enjoy it, as where I’m sitting I can feel his hand pleasuring himself start to move a little faster and his breath starts to hitch and grow heavier. 

“J-Jamie…” He gasps out. I shiver and without much thought I suck a little harder than I mean to on the space where his neck meets his shoulder. In answer his back arches off of my chest, his breath rattles as he purrs with the self-satisfaction of a pampered cat, “You like that? You like it when I moan for you, Jamie?” 

I nod, breathlessly skirting my lips across his cheek before reaffirming them on his jaw. “You seem like you want me to bite you.” I whisper against his skin, my hands gliding from where they were resting beside me to instead graze Asra’s ribcage, skirting the beautiful lay of skin I know lies just beneath my fingertips. 

“What if I did?” I blink a little in shock before quickly sealing my eyes tightly again as Asra’s hips begin to cant, his head lies now more heavily on my shoulder as he leans back into me, a point of grounding against his now-rapidly jerking hand. “Would you?”

Now no longer afraid that the rougher pressure will hurt him I press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Asra’s throat before nipping the skin, lapping at the mark I know I must have made with my tongue after. Asra’s voice rumbles in pleasure, gasping breaths painting the air with the sound of his ecstasy, “Oh  _ yes.  _ Mmm…  _ Jamie…”  _

If I wasn’t still in the throes of recovery from Asra’s… treatment, I know for certain that Asra’s desperate words would make heat ignite across my frame. I trail my hands down to his thighs, mindful of his arm that’s bringing himself to fruition, before rising back up to the front of his chest as my lips trail to his shoulder. Finding fresh skin to mark I bite down, sucking upon him after with my tongue and this time as I do so I graze my thumbs across Asra’s nipples. To my distinct pleasure he immediately lets out a moan, his back arching into my hands as his hips start to twist and squirm.  _ “Mhnn… Jamie, I’m…”  _ He trails off in a breathy sigh. 

This time I risk looking because I want to see his face. His eyes have fallen shut and his lips are red and parted like a cherry cut in half, building pleasure and cruxing passion making his face bloom in chrysanthemums. I get an idea, staring at the beauty that lies before me. I touch his chin with my thumb and forefinger, tilting his face towards mine. His eyes slightly part as he turns to face me more fully, his breath hitching with a gasp as his body twists with gratification. His gaze is nothing short of ethereal, the heavens sealed within his irises and spelling out the universal destiny in the swaying purples that lie within. I barely touch my lips over his, just enough to feel how hot they are, how much breath he exhales when he gasps, before I whisper softly in a coaxing voice, “Finish for me.” 

Asra’s breath shudders against mine and without hesitation I kiss him, stimulating his chest with gentle brushes of my fingertips. Asra immediately moans into my mouth, I can taste his want and his desperation like copper on his tongue as his free hand tangles into my hair, the other I can feel start to hitch and pull. He makes a soft noise against my lips as any indication of the pleasure crashing upon him, his lips parting slightly before he falls quiet. I skirt my hands up to cup his face and hold him close, feeling his racing heartbeat and his thunderous breaths as they attempt to recatch themselves. 

Before long I feel Asra’s magic come to life just beneath the surface. He moves and adjusts something and I feel his magic working down his arms before it recedes, like the gentle tug of the tide. I open my eyes just as Asra turns around fully, having pulled his trousers back up but I barely get a chance to see before he’s kissing me with full intent on stealing my breath, or so it feels; kissing me windy is one of Asra’s many many talents, though this is a newer one that I was glad to learn. “Jamie, you’re…” He shakes his head slightly, holding my face in his hands before he collapses back against the cushions beside me, his arms splayed on either side of his head, “That was… incredible.” 

I shake my head with a soft laugh as I shift to lie down beside him, ensuring that he and I both have pillows to recline on as I hum, “You did all the work…”

With a laugh Asra rolls over towards me and kisses my temple with an arm thrown over my shoulders, “You were the one doing all the ah…  _ encouraging.”  _ This elicits a chuckle from the both of us as he scoots closer, though the candlelight is running low I can clearly see the glimmer of astral light in his lavender eyes as he regards me seriously, “I know this was a lot for you to try at once, today, but… I’d like to cuddle. If that’s too much, though, we don’t have to.” 

I let out a soft breath of appreciation and gently leave a kiss between his snow-white brows. “I think I’d like that if you would.” 

“Oh, I would.” Asra immediately pulls me closer to him by both hands, I laugh and finagle myself to lie against him, half my head resting on his shoulder and chest with both of his arms wrapped tightly around me. I have to admit, while it’s a new sensation… it’s not entirely unwelcome. It’s warm in Asra’s arms, there’s a sense of security of having him wrapped up entirely around me, feeling him there, knowing he’s not going to go anywhere… 

I swallow and bury my face into the crook of Asra’s neck. He chuckles and presses a kiss to my temple as we shift to get comfortable, and after a time I murmur to him softly, “Thank you.” 

His hand on my shoulder shifts instead to cart through my hair. “Whatever for?” 

I bite on my lip, nestling close to his side. “... Being patient with me, I suppose. I’ve… got a lot on my mind that I’m trying to figure out. I just… appreciate what you’re willing to do to accomodate for me.” 

Asra shifts slightly beneath me as his hands touch my chin and encourage me to look up to him. He sits up just a little so that we’re looking at one another eye to eye, though the candlelight has now been extinguished I’m able to see the flicker of movement as his eyes search mine in the darkness. “Jamie, there’s very little that I wouldn’t do for you. I care about you, and want you to be safe and happy above all else.” 

Something about his words that make me glad the room is dark spark a memory from earlier this evening. “Asra, are we partners?” I ask suddenly. “Like… romantically-involved partners?” 

I can see Asra blink. “... Yes? That’s what I thought…?” He giggles softly, his hands moving my hair to lie flat on my back, “Do you think I’d go down on someone I see as  _ just a friend _ ?” __

I flush in embarrassment and playfully shove him back onto his back, making him laugh some more as I resume my previous position. “I was just checking! I hadn’t really thought about it was all…” I pause as Asra grows silent, his breath rising and falling steadily. “... I’m happy to call you my partner.”

Asra’s hands settle on my shoulders, arms wrapped tight around me while mine lie on either side of him. “... Me too.”

For the first time in a while I fall asleep without anxiety for what is to come in my dreams. Instead I revel in the warmth of my partner around me as our breaths slow with every beat of our hearts pressed together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i initially titled this "the blowjob chapter" when i started writing it but it evolved to be WAAAAAY more than that because I decided to throw in Lucio. He and Jamie have a lot more in common than the both of them think...  
> Thank you for reading this far! Leave a kudos, rec a friend, and comment below what you think so far! Tell me the part that made you go "d'aw!" or made you go "oh lord that's gay good for them" or "Jamie... you dumbass" (because I know I say that often)... Or alternatively, I'd love to know what your guys' theories are especially on Jamie's implied but unexplained past that leads him to behave the way that he does... I gave a LOT of hints here. Or just comment a list of "asdgkjasklgjasklgjd"s so I know you liked it! Comments are great! Gimme them!  
> But anyway, fuck yeah, stay tuned~


	10. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As some things change, even more stay the same. The more that Jamie is practicing magic, the more his power awakens... but this might not be a good thing for Jamie, or Asra for that matter. As old wounds reopen with the resurgence of internal connection, the pair have more than new feelings towards one another to contend with.   
> ...   
> **Warning: NSFW near the end**

_ Thin, towering pines, daggered leaves digging into the soles of my feet as I leap over a set of gnarled tree roots. Darkness cut into strips by sharp white moonlight turns the rough bark into the keys of a pipe organ, it’s hard to see through the peeling shadow. I run, the slapping of bare feet on the pine needled earth, my own rapid breath making my ears rattle like chains…  _

_ I hear it again, suddenly ringing out in the black forest like a scream; the cracking of a whip, the terrifying gush of wind that happens when it’s right next to your ear. I wince and nearly fall in my mad rush to escape but by the miracle of a sticky conifer I manage to force myself back on the path away, away, as far away as I can. I see the silvery outline through the black trees, the end is close, so close, I just have to get there and then I’ll be safe- _

_ Suddenly a body slams into me from behind, hurtling me face first to the forest floor. I writhe, immediately letting out a sharp cry but before I can do much else a gruff hand grabs my shoulder and forces me onto my back. I stare up with wide eyes as the trees arc with black fingers to form a halo of thorns around her hovering over me, grinning down at me with bare, shark-like teeth. “You’ve been a bad dog. Very  _ **_very_ ** _ bad.” She growls. _

_ I thrash as thorny vines snake their way around my wrists and ankles, holding them in place. The more I try to break free the tighter their hold becomes, digging thorns into my skin until I’m crying out in pain when they sink into my flesh like wolf teeth. “Leave me alone!” _

_ She keeps talking like my tossing beneath her is as natural as the movement of a ship at sea. “I don’t even think I should number your lashes for this one, I think I should just keep going until you black out. Maybe then you’ll start following my commands without question… like a good dog.” She adds the last part with black meaning in her eyes, dancing like a pleased cat’s in dancing firelight.  _

_ I bare my teeth, boiling rage pulling from deep in my gut and into my blood as its coppery taste wells in my mouth, “I’m not going, I won’t! I won’t  _ **_ever_ ** _ go back!”  _

_ Suddenly, the world begins to swim, tinged red as if I’m plunged to the bottom of a river of blood. Her smile stretches, lights, dies, then morphs into a scream as the color of her gums suddenly explodes in my eyes and shrouds the world, nothing is untouched.  _

_ I’m plunged into darkness. When it fades, the world is nothing but bars of black and white, falling in and out of focus. Then I see the red, like a haze of inky mist over my vision.  _

_ I blink, wiping my eyes; I feel something wet smear across them. I look down at my hand and start in horror when I see the red, the blood, slick and wet and fresh. My other hand I’m holding something, it’s the size of my fist, squishy and soft like a wad of wet paper. The world comes into sharp focus with the crack of a whip when I look down and see it for what it is, a still beating heart, shuddering in my palm and slicking my hands and forearms with blood that drips to the grass between my feet… just next to the shrouded body, lying completely still amongst the gnarled roots of the pine trees.  _

_ I start to shake so hard the lack of color vibrates. I drop the heart into the grass as repulsion makes my muscles spasm. I fall to my knees, tears swell in my eyes when I see his face. Twisted with pain, the light in his eye long gone but instead replaced with the cold darkness of shock, of horror. Sobbing I cup his face in my hands, brushing his hair from his face to avoid seeing the gaping hole in his chest but as soon as I do I realize I’m smearing his blood all over him. Quickly pull my hands away right as something green, sickly, and wrong manifests beneath my fingertips and starts to eat away at his graying skin, right where I touched him.  _

_ “No, no, stop it! Stop!” I panic, looking around me for something to wipe it clean before I manage to snatch a nearby leaf, but as soon as I touch its waxy surface it too suddenly begins to be eaten away by this weird green liquid as well.  _

_ That’s when my face begins to burn. I wince and hiss in pain, touching my cheeks; whether it’s wet because of my tears or the blood on my hands I cannot tell, but something is wrong, it’s hurting, it’s hissing and biting into my flesh and into my blood and spreading- _

“Jamie!” 

I gasp, the world warbles between shades of red and white and black before I realize I’m being shaken awake. I start and bar my hands to my face to shield myself before my sleep-ridden eyes focus and I realize Asra is hovering over me, both of his hands on my shoulders. I sniffle, and that’s when I feel the tears sticking to my cheeks, and the very real, pricking burn that’s slowly crawling upwards. “A-ah, my- ow! Asra…? What’s happening?!” 

“You’re awake!” Asra lets out a breath of relief before he seizes my face with both hands, his expression intense and focused on mine, “Jamie, you have to calm down, before it reaches your eyes. Deep breaths now, I’ll try to counteract it.” 

My lungs burn as much as my face as I try to sit up, I’m shaking so bad it feels like my limbs are about to lock up as I stammer, ‘W-What do you mean, before what reaches my-?” 

“It’s your magic, it’s turning your tears to poison!” Asra speaks with a flurry and panic I’ve yet heard before, his thumbs rest on either side of my face, I can feel his magic pressed flush to my skin and beneath, numbing the pain, protecting me from it, trying to undo what… I’m doing. I feel it now,  _ I’m  _ doing this, it’s my own magic sprouting like a toxic cloud, dragging upwards and towards my eyes where the tears stem. “We have to stop it before it reaches your eyes. Concentrate, harness it.” Asra instructs with a surprising tone of command, his own lavender eyes gleaming with worry, “It’s  _ your  _ magic.  _ You _ control  _ it, _ not the other way around.” 

Despite how I feel like I’m about to jump out of my own skin and wear the air like a jester’s costume I force myself to close my eyes, settle, and dig inward, ignoring the pain… something I’ve perfected with years of practice. Into my magic I forge, into myself, and with some willpower I focus and relax my breath. I feel the poison, it tastes like old blood, fetid and eaten by flies. I feel the bitterness beneath it, the hatred, the rage… the fuel to the fire that burns my face. I clench my fists at my side, taking staggering breaths to reclaim myself… after a pause I release a drawn out breath. In that exhale I release the imaginary fumes built within me and force it away, just as the burning was reaching underneath my eyelids. 

As soon as the poison inside recedes so too does the infection in my tears, which now refuse to stop as the pain awashes fresh added with the embarrassment of this moment, swelling into the tide of my half-remembered dream slamming into me like a high-speed wagon. 

Asra lets out a breath of relief, his thumbs brush through the wet trail of my tears. I feel his healing magic left behind as a smile lights his worry-lined face, “There we go. You’re alright, now you’re alright… You did so well, Jamie.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my temple that elicits a quiet whimper unwillingly from the back of my throat as he whispers with obvious relief evident in his intimate voice, “Good, it didn’t reach your eyes. If they had gotten burned, I’m not sure my healing would’ve been enough to…” He trails off, his gaze drifting into another place entirely.

Wordlessly I lean forward, cutting off his thoughts by wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my face into his chest. I can’t find it in me to say anything, unable to speak through the recovery… but mostly the shame. 

This is the fourth nightmare I’ve had this week, and the third nightmare that’s made my magic go wild and out of control since I started sleeping at Asra’s. Asra has been there each of these three times; he calmed me, helped me to relax and get through it… but despite how grateful I am for his assistance, I can’t help but feel a burning, ashen pit of despairing shame that he has to see me this way. That I can’t seem to get control of myself and my magic because of these stupid nightmares that do nothing but pull on strings of my past to dance in sickening circles in front of me. 

“I’m so sorry.” I murmur after a moment, “I didn’t mean-” 

“It’s okay. You’re alright, now.” Asra whispers softly, smoothing my hair as he shifts to sit more comfortably next to me rather than straddling my lap. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to go anywhere.” 

I can’t help but tense at that. “... What do you mean?” 

Asra flushes a little, glancing at me only for a moment before his lavender gaze drifts to the floor, “You were talking a little in your sleep… I couldn’t make out much of what you said except something about not going back somewhere.” I swallow, crimson blooms fighting to be seen beneath my skin as his softened gaze returns to mine, “Was it the same dream? The one you mentioned before, the one that repeats itself?” 

Slowly I nod, shamefully keeping my focus on the hem of my sleeping shirt. “I don’t understand why this keeps happening. My magic has never gone out of control from my nightmares before, and never have I lost control of it this often.” 

Asra purses his lips as his hand rests on top of mine on the comfortable bed covers, “Did you take that sleeping draught I made you last night?” 

I lace my fingers gently through his, almost afraid to do so because of the worming  _ what if  _ in the back of my thoughts. “I did. I fell asleep pretty fast, but it did nothing for the dream itself…” 

“You seemed pretty deep asleep. You even snored a little.” Asra playfully squeezes my hand, to bring up my spirits no doubt. While I can see his smile and ache to smile with him, the memory of Master Garmel’s twisted face hovering behind my eyelids is too real for me to find a smile authentically. Asra seems to sense this, as he lets out a quiet sigh and squeezes my hand, “I’m sorry it didn’t help.” 

I quickly try to shake myself out of my head to squeeze his hand in return, “Don’t apologize, I thought it would work, too… I’m extremely grateful that you’re trying to help.” I set my jaw and look down at the sheets, the intricate stitching and array of patterns along its surface. A thought occurs to me, emerging from the mires of red smog in my head, one that could account for this madness. “Maybe it’s because I’m finally learning about magic.” 

I see Asra raise an eyebrow out of the corner of my eye, “How do you mean?” 

“I mean… maybe the reason why my magic is suddenly so hyperactive is because you have been teaching me more about magic. Perhaps it’s easier to access, so it rises up easier when I get… riled up.” I elaborate with a slow intonation, making sure to add with a slight touch of my shoulder against his, “Through no fault of your own.” 

Asra nods to me with a pensive expression, his eyes are faraway and deep in another world for a moment before he mutters, “Perhaps you’re right… I’ve been trying to teach you more about magic, expanding your knowledge… maybe that’s not what you’ve needed.” His gaze suddenly snaps into focus and hones in on mine, causing a slight shiver to rush up my spine as he continues with a more matter of fact tone, “So maybe if we focus more on  _ refining _ your magic, it will help you harness control and stop the nightmares from affecting it so much… and I think I have an idea of just how to do that.” He rises from the bedside suddenly, pulling me up to my feet with him before he pauses halfway through like he forgot Faust’s sweater on a cold evening. He turns to me and takes my face into both of his hands, “What am I thinking… I’m rushing too far ahead. Are you alright? That was a lot to have to deal with just when you wake up from a nightmare…”

I flush a little under his scrutiny, settling my hands on his wrists as I murmur tenderly in response, “I’m fine, Asra. Really. It’ll help to leave this whole business behind us.” 

Asra’s gaze searches mine for a time before he nods when finds what he sought, “... Alright. Is there anything I can do for you right now?” 

I flicker my gaze to the side, over his shoulder, right as my stomach decides to rear its head and make its presence known. Asra touches his nose to mine and lets out a rush of breath against my features like a blessing of soft laughter before he turns away and strides to the kitchen, “Guess I’m going to make us some lunch… You should get dressed.” 

“Dressed for what?” I ask, approaching the chest of drawers and digging within. 

“For adventure.” 

I raise an eyebrow at him but he’s already gone into the adjacent room to fixing us something to eat without another word. So I let the enigmatic answer slide, figuring that a sturdy set of shoes and not-my-finest apparel is probably the best idea for whatever “adventure” means. I braid up my hair to be out of my face as I pick through my clothes, forcing my dreams from my mind and my bile from my throat. Once I’m dressed, Asra and I have some quick lunch, leftover bread and cheese from yesterday, before taking some extras for the road as we stride out of the shop together and into the city. 

Though we are not there for long. Asra guides me to the outer fringes, towards Muriel’s hut in the forest. When the trees outnumber the people, I decide to inquire further about our journey. “Where exactly are we going, Asra?”

“A cave.” He murmurs softly in response. His hand worms into his bag just as Faust winds her way up his forearm and to his shoulder, her forked tongue briefly flicking across his ear like she’s whispering something to him. Asra doesn’t seem to be paying her any mind, as his gaze remains glued to mine as we walk through a grassy, sunlit clearing, “It’s a hot spot for magic. People have been going there for as long as time to open their eyes and experience another side of reality… It’s difficult to explain…” 

I furrow my eyebrows, listening quietly for a time before slowly nodding my head, “So it’s like… a foci of sorts?” 

Asra cocks an eyebrow at me and a brilliant smile erupts, a short laugh ringing like birdsong in the warm, summer air, “I see you’ve been reading that book I got you.” When I merely shrug enigmatically his smile settles to a low burn like an ancient hearth as he continues, “Sort of, but not really. It’s more like… the best way I can describe it is an augmentation of magic. It is its own entity, it exists within itself, but through it magic can be… better understood. It illuminates magic so that it can be seen without any shadows.” 

“I see.” I hum, chewing on my lip for a moment. We pass beneath low hanging emerald boughs laden with sunlight like golden silk. Perched upon the one over my head is a small lilac-breasted roller, like a gemstone among the gilded branches it cocks its head from side to side before flittering off through the sunlight and out of sight. “Just how did you find this place?” I murmur with curiosity.

“The Magician guided me here a long time ago.” Asra replies after a moment’s hesitation, pulling my gaze to his. He’s physically looking just in front of his boots, though truth be told his eyes tell me that he is far away from this present moment. “Back then it was to help show me how to open my gateway.”

I blink stupidly for about five seconds before I manage to vocalize my confusion, “... Your gateway? Gateway to what?” 

Asra glances back at me with a bit of a start, like my question just pulled him down from the clouds, before he answers with a sheepish glance to the side, “To a place between realities.” I stare at him with a stupified expression, prompting him to continue, “Different, magical dimensions help me when I travel, cast more complicated spells, and better communicate with the different Arcana. You’re definitely powerful enough to open your own gate, but where you stand now I don’t think it’s wise to try it until you’ve mastered some different aspects of magic… like your ability to speak to the Arcana.” 

Asra had mentioned in the past of there being places beyond tangible reality, such as the dimensions the Arcana occupy, but I didn’t realize it was a place that we could ever enter. Or, at least, that we could ever travel between them. That’s  _ certainly  _ a discussion for another day.

Though I’m reeling at this revelation, I manage to blow a raspberry, “Oh absolutely, I’m content in this dimension, thank you very much. I don’t want to discover what lies beyond what I can see until I get  _ really  _ bored.” 

Asra laughs lightheartedly, his fingers wind into mine subtly as we walk on, “You have been making great progress. You are a natural at illusion and transformation magic, and since you have finished  _ the Prima Elementia  _ you’ve gotten much better at casting elemental spells, too. It’s really impressive how fast you’re learning.” 

I blush a little at the compliment and wave him off bashfully, “Only because I have such a good teacher.” 

Small hills begin to emerge in the trees, the ground beneath our feet sloping with more obvious, though still gradual as Asra’s hand squeezes mine gently, “It’s easy to teach you. You understand the nature of magic more innately than anyone I’ve ever met… It’s like teaching a fish to swim a different current… all you really need is a guiding hand.” 

Before I can say anything to argue with Asra, at how he’s giving himself too little credit, he pauses next to a tall stone wall completely covered in thick, leafy vines. He sweeps his hand across the lush surface, skimming his hand down the wall before the stone beneath the vines gives away and darkness is revealed beyond the verdant curtain. “Here we are.” He murmurs thoughtfully. Faust unwinds off of his shoulders and latches onto the vines, disappearing rather quickly into the overgrowth. “Alright, you have fun out here, then.” Asra chuckles as he speaks to his familiar, “We should be out in a few hours.” 

I balk a little.  _ Hours?  _ Before I can question Asra on this he parts the vines that leads into the darkness of this hidden cave, giving me a prompting gesture to head inside. “After you.” 

I slip beneath the thick vines and into the cave. 

Inside it’s surprisingly cooler than it is outside, moisture clings to my skin from all sides. As soon as Asra joins me inside and the vines cover the opening we’re plunged into almost total darkness. “Think you can cast a light for us, Jamie?” Asra’s soft voice dances in the air next to me, even as my eyes desperately try to find light to better see this space. “Remember, it’s manifesting light that’s already there, you just have to point it in the right direction.” 

I nod, letting out a soft breath as I hold my palm face up to concentrate on the spell. I initially struggled with it because I couldn’t figure out how to go about  _ creating  _ light, which is how Asra explained it, but in reality my magic isn’t actually creating anything at all. I focus on an orb of air above my palm and will the magic within me to infuse it and reflect light. Slowly a soft, silvery glow is produced from my fingertips, not exactly an orb of light like Asra’s, which has crisp and defined edges, but rather like a misted cloud of light instead. How I understand it is that it’s not the  _ creation _ of light… just repurposing what’s already there to produce light instead. 

It does the trick; as soon as it starts to pulse and glow the cavern we find ourselves in comes into view, winding stone leading into the earth. Asra raises a hand and produces his own light with me, further illuminating the space as he smiles at me with a fond twinkle of the white light in his eye, “Well done. Now… Do you feel it?” 

I blink at him in confusion, “Feel what?” 

“The magic.” When I continue to look at him with bewilderment, he takes our conjoined hands and press my palm flat to the cavern wall, cool and smooth against my skin. “It’s infused into the whole cavern… see if you can find it.” 

I furrow my brows and close my eyes to focus. I feel nothing beneath my fingertips, just stone, until I reach into my magic and will it outside of my form to interact with the world around me.  _ That’s  _ when I feel it. Ancient and deep, suddenly I feel the cave’s magic all around me, in the stone walls, in the thin layer of dirt on the undisturbed floor, in the air I breathe. “Whoa.” I murmur, my fingers splayed flat on the stone, “This place is teeming with magic…  _ old _ magic.” I can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light but for a moment I swear that I can see swirling patterns beneath my fingertips, as if the natural magic was a fish swimming beneath murky waters.

“It does.” Asra confirms as my hand drops from the cavern wall, I shiver at how his voice seems to glow with pride. “We’re looking for the heart of the cave… do you think you can guide us there?”

Worriedly I look to Asra with a dip in my brow, “How?” 

“You can feel the magic now, so all you have to do is follow it down.” He reaches out to me and gently takes my hands, with my magic so awake all around me when I feel his magic touching mine far more intimately than before and it causes me to gasp slightly as he murmurs, “You can do this. Trust your senses to lead us.” Asra glances down at my hands and then back at me, a sudden smile causing his beautiful lavender eyes to glimmer in the magical light as he murmurs, “You’re magic is so vibrant here. It’s… dazzling.”

“You flirt.” I counter with a huff of embarrassment, shaking my head at him with a playful glance. 

He laughs, echoing in the cavern air as he sneaks a kiss on my knuckles, “Guilty as charged.” I roll my eyes at him and swat at him playfully before I turn away, focusing on the magical energies swirling around me instead of the burning embarrassment beneath my cheeks. I have to make an effort to weave through it, now that I’m aware of Asra’s magic. It seems to encompass me like a warm blanket, but thus it makes finding the older, less familiar magic a little more difficult. I lay my hands on the wall to feel it again, weaving just beneath the stone like tree sap, before I dig into the feeling to find its source, like trailing my finger down a vine to find the roots. It leads further into the cave, but as it gets out of my range its source becomes more and more vague. 

So, slowly I start to follow its magical tracks, careful to stay in tune with its presence beneath us and around us. Asra follows close beside me, watching me and the walls with interest. We don’t speak as we walk through the cave, mostly because I’m too busy focusing on where we’re going because the  _ last  _ thing I need is to get us lost down here, but it’s still a comfortable silence. Without him here, I think the silence would be too deep and too total… he’s a comfort to have close. 

After what feels like ages, we spill into a larger cavern. Asra and I propel our magic lights outward to illuminate the entire space and I gawk once it’s revealed. A massive lake takes up a majority of the cavern, large lilypads the size of our small circular dining room table scatter its completely glass-like surface. In the middle lies a lilypad that’s a larger than the rest with an equally large bloom in the center, a soft white flower that seems to beckon to me from the shore. 

“You did it!” Asra congratulates, his hand resting on my shoulder as he starts to blush, “I couldn’t keep track of the magic here myself until the Magician taught me how… When will I learn to stop underestimating you?”

I bump my shoulder against his and murmur, “I’m sure I just got lucky. Plus you’ve already done this before, I’m sure you were guiding me more than you think.” Asra’s eyes flutter to the side as I continue with a serious tone, “So what do we do now?”

Asra flickers his gaze across mine for a brief moment before he looks out on the water, with a finger he points to the center. “That flower is the focal point. Through it you’ll gain the knowledge you’re looking for… What exactly I can’t say. But hopefully it will be the piece you need to better understand your magic… to better control it.” 

Eying the lilypads in the water, I can see a way across the water without having to get in it - probably a good idea to not go swimming in the magical lake - it seems like there’s already a path laid out before me. “That’s it? Just get to the flower?” 

“I think so.” Asra murmurs, smiling a little sheepishly, “Once you’re one with the lake, you’ll see its magic for what it is and it will hopefully show you something about your own magic… I don’t know what it will show you or what you will find, but… It’s worth a try.” 

I let out a soft breath in response, “Alright, well, I’ll take what I can get at this point.” 

I stride to the edge of the water but before I can get close enough to step onto the closest lilypad Asra’s hand tugs on my wrist, pulling my gaze back to his. His lilac eyes are wide and glimmering with a light I haven’t seen in a while, reflecting deep setting worry within him as he murmurs, “Be careful.” 

“It’ll be fine, Asra, I know how to swim.” I comfort him with a squeeze of his fingers and a winning smile. “We’ve gotten this far, right?” 

Asra’s eyes widen a little, his gaze flickering across my features like he’s drinking in an evening sunset before he murmurs with a slightly amused curve of his lips, “Confidence is a look that suites you.” 

I smile a little and shake my head at him with a laugh, “Oh hush. Save your flattery for when I return.” I release his hand and turn to hop onto the first lilypad. It bounces and gives a little beneath my boots and for a scary moment I wobble as I try to keep balance, but quickly the feeling passes as the lilypad evens out. I nod to myself, letting out a breath before I step onto the next one. The farther out I go, the easier it is to hop from one lilypad to the next, it’s almost kind of fun with the soft  _ plop plop plop  _ noise it makes when my foot strikes its waxy surface. 

In no time at all I make it to the central lily pad with the flower in the center. I let out a breath in recovery as I kneel at the flower and inadvertently inhale its sweet, floral scent, careening my thoughts a little to the point of near ecstatic excitement. I cough as I whirl around to tell Asra and raise my arms in the air, “I made it!” 

I stop as soon as I’m facing the other direction, however, as a cold weighted stone sinks in my chest. Asra is far -  _ way  _ farther than he should be. I can barely make out the details of his form from here, the shore just getting longer and longer the farther I look. I wipe my eyes and clear my thoughts,  _ this must be some sort of trick of the light, _ but right as I do I feel the lilypad begin to tremble. I blink and look down at it and see bubbles coming to life up and around its edges, my footing becoming uncertain as the pad begins to warble and give like paper. I glance up towards the shore one last time with a look of horror right as the lilypad beneath my feet gives and I’m plunged into the waters. 

Now I’m a fair swimmer, I learned from watching wild wolves and deer crossing rivers during the summertime when I was in Thavuntis, but something about this water suddenly makes my limbs lock up in fear. Perhaps because it’s far deeper than I ever thought it was, or because it’s so dark and so bleak and colder than I ever thought it should be this far south that any preparations I had made in my head when this came to pass all fail me. I struggle, I kick out my feet and claw my hands through the water to go back to the surface but it feels like it’s no use, as I blink furiously through the water the rippling surface gives away and grows black, nothing but black as far as I can see all around me, I can’t even tell which way is up anymore. 

I grow desperate as my chest starts to prickle and burn for air and go for my last resort. I reach deep within myself to summon my magic and shift my form into something that can breathe water, a fish or something… but to my horror, when I peer inside I find nothing within. Just a void, a sheet of black and white where my magic used to be. 

That’s when the true panic sets in. I thrash, I kick, but even as I feel like I should be at least going somewhere I feel like there’s a hand grasping my ankle and pulling me down. When I look I see nothing there, like I could see anything beyond this darkness. I grit my jaw, my vision is starting to grow dark- or is it? I can’t really tell, but my strength wanes and my lungs are burning harsher than the heart of a bonfire. I lash out one last time just as my muscles lock up and seize.  _ Asra- but what about Asra?  _

Arms on my wrists then wrapped around my waist, hoisting me through the water as the darkness becomes total. I feel water rush against my face until suddenly the water breaks and I feel air on my skin. 

I can’t see. I don’t care to see. I’m coughing. Racking coughs that seem to pull out my stomach from within my body and smack it on a stone to rid it of the stale air locked in my chest. Only when I can reasonably feel safe that air is within my grasp do I feel the movement, the dragging, the desperate breaths that numb the back of my neck and make me realize just how chilled to the bone I feel. Some primal instinct kicks in when I realize I’m still in the water and not quite fully on shore yet so I thrash and start helping, sensing the direction I’m being pulled I follow until I find myself clawing my way onto a small island in the middle of this lake. A pair of arms tremble around me, draped across my shoulders like a protective blanket, and immediately I feel him, his magic, his essence, wind in with mine to the point I’m gasping his name between coughs, “A-Asra? Asra-” 

_ “Jamie!” _ He answers in desperation and my heart jerks when I realize it’s in the midst of a sob. His face is pressed into my shoulder and his breath is coming is tearful hiccups. 

This pulls me out of my disorientation, enough so that I can move onto my side and touch his shoulders. His eyes are the first things I can truly see clearly, soft and wide and brimming with tears that are beginning to prickle down his cheeks. I wipe them away quickly and pull him close for a hug, which he immediately reciprocates with his hands digging into the material of my tunic on my back. I cough again under the pressure and he immediately loosens his grip, through the agony in my chest I sputter, “You got so far away!” 

Asra shakes his head slightly, water droplets sent flying from the movement as he holds my face tenderly between both of his hands. “Maybe you weren’t supposed to look back… I’m  _ so sorry.  _ I shouldn’t have brought you here.” I open my mouth to say something, to calm him, to reassure him, but he doesn’t allow me to as he forges on with a firm set in his snowfall brows, “Please, I need to teach you a spell. Right now. If you remember to use it, this will never have to happen again.” He brushes his thumbs across my cheeks and takes a deep breath, it hitches slightly as his hands cup my face before he continues in an instructing but gentle tone, “Take a deep breath…” 

I nod, swallowing in air now that it’s mine to have and it’s sweet to taste, but before I let it out he holds a finger just over my lips and murmurs, “Now pull on your magic… and let it last.” 

I furrow my eyebrows and look down at his hand for a moment before he lets it drop, instead settling on my shoulders as I struggle into an upright position. Uncertainly I reach into myself, terrified that my magic is gone I do so tentatively but to my surprise it’s exactly where it always is, buried deep within but easily accessible nonetheless. 

I decide to puzzle on it later to learn this spell. I close my eyes and focus my magic on the breath held in my chest, now on the edge of being not enough any longer, but as I think to myself  _ let it last  _ the ache in my lungs seems to ease. I blink and look down at myself in surprise, but that’s when I realize what the spell is about. What Asra is trying to teach me… the brilliance of it. 

Magic is all about willpower; if you believe something will happen, then it will. If I believe that my lungs are full of air, so they are. If I believe I don’t need air at all, I don’t. This certainty makes my breath when I release the magic that much easier, and the tingle in my fingertips more lively than before. 

“Thank you.” I murmur to Asra, regarding him seriously. He seems to have recovered from before, he’s no longer crying at least, but the worrying pinch in between his brows is stubborn and persistent. His eyes are faraway, looking at the water’s surface with a dark glaze that sends a shiver down my spine and makes me want to seize his chin and look away, look at me, but I resist the urge as his gaze snaps to mine when he hears my voice. 

“No, I… I should’ve done that before you went out there.” His eyes flicker around the cavern before settling on his soaked scarf across his chest as his hands, riddled with the tension in his shoulders, settle on his thighs. “I should never have brought you here, this was foolish and reckless-” 

“Asra, it’s not your fault.” I interrupt him immediately, grasping his shoulders in both of my hands. He starts, his eyes widening and immediately sticking to mine as they bear into him as I state with full certainty, “I’m serious. You didn’t know that this could’ve happened, and I won’t let you beat yourself up about it.” His cheeks redden significantly as his gaze casts slightly to the side, remembering his own words I cup his face and murmur with a soft voice, “No one got hurt, right? It’s okay… we’re okay.” 

Asra watches me for a long moment, whether it’s water or tear drops clinging to his eyelashes I can’t tell as he wipes his eyes with finality and lets out a breath, “... You’re right… I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” 

I shake my head at him in answer, “It’s alright. I’m glad I had you here to look out for me…”  _ I don’t think I would’ve made it out if it wasn’t for you.  _ I was about to say it… but seeing this dreadfully broken up expression on his face, I don’t want to cause him any further cause of alarm than necessary. So I smile and run a hand through his hair, shaking more water free through his silken locks. 

He even manages a slight smile in return, “Did you manage to learn anything, at least?” 

I pause, furrowing my eyebrows as I stare out at the water. The lilypad holding the flower is still sitting out there, like it didn’t nearly just try to drown me, but now that I’m looking at it, and I mean  _ really  _ looking at it, I realize that what I’m seeing isn’t the whole picture. Like a thin, wet layer of paper on top of wood, this cave is just covering a depth of color and vibrancy, light and swirls of cobalt and violet magic intertwine through the air and splashing across the walls of the cavern, leading upwards and around us with the raw aura of magical power that I had never seen before. 

Asra notices how long I stare and follows my gaze. After a moment he smiles slightly and glances back at my profile, “You can see it now, can’t you?” I nod a little breathlessly, but before I can ask what it could be he surprisingly answers me before I can, “It’s your magic. Somewhat, at least. Your magic merged with its, as you were able to sense its magic before… you can sense your own.” 

“Like a mirror reflection.” I mutter pensively, watching the dizzying display of light and color dance across the water’s crystalline surface. “But… then what is taking away my magic supposed to show me?” 

Asra blinks and glances over at me with wide, surprised eyes, “What?” 

I furrow my brows as I gesture towards the water, wrapping my arms lightly around myself afterward, “When I fell into the water, I tried to save myself by transforming into a creature that could breathe underwater… but when I reached inside, I couldn’t find my magic. It was like it I was gutted… or it got covered up.”

The welcome weight of Asra’s arms settles on my shoulders as he huddles close to me, his gaze distant and visibly distraught as he murmurs, “That must have been horrible.” 

I nod very slowly, cautiously so. “It… was.” 

Asra’s gaze holds mine in the palm of his hand as I speak, the lavender hues delving deep into my soul, or so it seems. After a moment he murmurs, “You sound surprised.” 

I rest my forehead against his, shuffling a little closer despite how the ache of vulnerability in my chest makes me want to push him away. But he’s so warm and I’m surprisingly cold that I can’t find it in me to do so. “You have to understand Asra, I… In the north, in Thavuntis, magic is not accepted like it is here. It’s feared, it’s reviled.” Asra’s hands rub warmth into my arms as I lean slightly against him, fighting to keep my gaze away from his as the shame of being known begins to burn in my cheeks, “I wished for all my life that I didn’t have the powers I did for  _ years _ . Everything I learned about magic was how to hide, either it or myself. I… it just felt like it would be so much easier if I never had it.” 

Asra is silent for a long time, wordlessly rubbing warmth back into my shivering limbs with the grace and care of a doctor. After a time, he murmurs, “So… was it truly bad, then? If you got something that you always wanted?” He sounds hesitant, like he wants to say something more but doesn’t know how.

A deep frown pulls my lips downward. “It… was.” 

Asra doesn’t press my any further, fortunately, as my head is spinning in confusion and implications that this holds. I shake my head as I return a bit to myself, now that I’m no longer trembling too bad with cold I’m eager to get out of the cave and into dry clothes back at the shop, so I rise up and hold out my hands to pull Asra with me, “We should be heading back. We don’t want to worry Faust by staying here too long.” 

Blinking slowly Asra nods in agreement, “Good idea.” There’s a certain glaze over his eyes that I can’t quite describe besides forlorn as he gestures towards the way we entered, “The way back should be easier than the way here, now that you’re in tune with the magic here… but we shouldn’t dawdle. I don’t know how long it will last.” 

I nod, but as I stride to follow the swirling blues and violets and pinks that weave around the exit I hesitate, pausing briefly so I can interlace my fingers with Asra’s before continuing onward. He takes up step beside me, and although his expression isn’t much different he squeezes my hands twice like a heartbeat as we make our way through the caverns. 

It takes no time at all to return to the surface with the guiding light of the cave’s magic to lead, and the whole way we walk in silence as our thoughts tangle with what just transpired. Once we break into the light of day we don’t have to worry about finding Faust for she finds us, dropping onto Asra’s shoulders and squeezes him around his chest and middle as she winds back into his clothes, briefly pulling a smile from his features before it returns to the dismal overcast it was before. It remains even after we return to the city and to the shop, undoing the cross-me-not and returning to the safe haven within. Even after I prepared us dinner while he changed, some foul sadness clings to his shoulders like a wet blanket and I can’t stand to look at it. I thought time would ease his worries… but it seemed to have amplified the longer time we spend since leaving the cave. 

I approach him after we are finished eating, while I’m getting undressed from my still-damp attire from our misadventure to the underground magic lake. “Asra?” I murmur. 

He lies on his side of the bed after just picking up a book from the windowsill, though his eyes don’t seem to be scanning the pages. He blinks when I speak to him, however, and sets it back down with one of his scarves shoved between the pages as a bookmark, “Hmm?” 

I feel a sudden compulsion, and though it’s a relatively new one to me I follow it without question, slowly moving to straddle Asra’s waist where he lies on his back. He raises an eyebrow playfully at me as he does and settles his hands on my thighs, but when his gaze finds mine the teasing light dims and instead matches the seriousness I feel in my soul as he murmurs, “What’s that look for?” 

“That’s exactly that I was going to ask you.” I hum, carting my fingers through his hair before cupping his face. He blushes and glances off to the side, turning the deep bronze of his skin to mottled carmine as I murmur, “You’ve been so quiet since we got back from the forest. You’re not still upset about what happened, are you?”

Asra flushes, letting out a soft breath against my inner wrist as his hands rest over mine, “I… Of course I’m still upset. I just… when you fell in and didn’t resurface and… when you didn’t move when I started pulling you to shore…” 

Warmth explodes from my heart and onto my tongue as I hush him softly and wrap my arms around him in tight hug, settling my chin on his shoulder. He slots his arms behind my back almost on impulse but keeps them settled by my waist, his face burrowing into the space where my neck meets my shoulder. Wordlessly I pull on one of his hands and bring it between us, settling his palm just on top of my chest. Asra allows me to guide him, though I can feel his confusion in the morph of his expression up until I whisper in his ear, “Listen. Feel that?” I press his hand flat against my chest. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time as I take deep breaths, far too deep than I really need but that’s alright; they’re largely for his benefit. “That means everything’s okay. As long as you can feel and hear that, everything will be alright. Okay?”

I’ve never watched it happen in real time before, but as Asra’s forehead touches mine I see the overwhelming tidal wave of emotion crash over his gaze and into his magic, tingling just beneath my hands as they remain resting on his hand pressed to my chest. “Jamie…” He murmurs breathlessly, his gaze flickers downwards briefly before he closes his eyes, peace dawning and easing the crease of his brow, “... You’re right. I shouldn’t dwell on it when it all worked out okay in the end.” 

“Damn right.” I huff, causing us both to chuckle softly and drastically relieving the tension in his shoulders, even more so when my hands travel to his chest and he relaxes into my touch. “It’s not like you to hang onto something negative like this for so long.” I murmur softly, dragging my fingertips up the side of his neck and to the nape of his neck to caress the soft, silver locks there. 

Asra tilts his head into my touch, his hands drift downwards to settle on my waist as he murmurs softly in response, “I know, I… I suppose I just never thought about the possibility of losing you before. It was… distressing.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” I state firmly, cupping his face once more. His eyes slowly glide open to meet mine and for a moment my heart starts to thunder as I realize our proximity, my gaze drifts lower briefly as I allow my thumb to gently brush against Asra’s bottom lip. It’s soft and pliant under my touch, I’m keenly aware of the heat in Asra’s breath on the palm of my hand as I mutter with embarrassment making my ears burn like the stove, “Perhaps what you need is a ah… distraction.” 

“Oh?” Asra purrs, his tongue dashing out to swipe playfully at my thumb as his hands on my sides drift up to my ribcage, dragging my tunic slightly upwards with it, “What kind of  _ distraction  _ do you have in mind?” 

_ He picked up on that real quick.  _

As my mind starts to work in that direction, compulsion seizes me with an idea, a  _ new  _ idea, one that would’ve terrified me a week ago but now suddenly seems like more than a viable option. Something different.  _ Oh man… this is gonna be something.  _

I build up my courage and confidence to slowly press my palms to Asra’s chest, pushing him gently until his back is pressed to the pillows. He goes willingly, an eyebrow raised with an enthusiastic and curious spark in his eye as he watches me with interest when I shift down to hover over him. With both of my arms planted on either side of his head I brush my lips to Asra’s ear, tickled slightly by the curls of his snowy hair as I whisper, “Let me take care of you.” Remembering something he’s done to me loads of times before that made me burst into internal gooey flames I punctuate this with a nibble of my teeth on his earlobe. 

An immediate, gasping gust of hot air erupts on my neck as Asra’s hands dig slightly into my sides.  _ “Oh.”  _ He whispers with a rasp, like he can’t quite believe what he just heard.

I pull away a little as a furious blush burns my face into crisps, “I-If that’s too much or not something you’d-” 

“No, no, not at all.” Asra quickly interrupts, resting a finger just overtop of my lips. His face is a bright scarlet, brilliant like a ruby. He looks at me like I just pried his legs apart instead of bite his ear a little. “I… I would not at all object to that… Are you sure you’re ready? This isn’t too fast for you?” 

I bite my lip slightly, “I’m… Well, I am kind of nervous… but I really want to try this. I want to do this  _ with you…” _ I glide my hand first up Asra’s chest and briefly fingering his collarbone before raking my fingertips back down again, lightly tugging on the low cut collar of his tunic as I do, “But only if you want.”

Asra stares at me with wide eyes that hold the universe within them before he nods after a moment rather briskly, his hands gently cup my face as he whispers, “Of course. Go at the pace you want, I’ll… I promise I’ll love whatever you do to me.” He glances to the side as he whispers the last part, like he just told me a dirty secret. 

It feels like straight catharsis. 

I clash my lips with his with a sudden hunger and want that’s so unprecedented I think it takes both Asra and I by surprise, as he lets out a low moan that I swallow and cherish on my tongue like a sweet. His hands immediately glide to my shoulders and then into my hair, weaving into the loose hair above my braid and holding my head close as his lips move with mine like they were born to fit together. I nibble gently on his bottom lip and he responds playfully in kind, I taste his tongue and nearly go dizzy with how suddenly hot and overwhelmed I’m already becoming, how easily it is to just slip into another state of mind when kissing Asra like I need him more than air. He drags his fingertips down my neck and chest as I keep myself perched just over him, tucking my feet beneath his thighs beneath me to hold my balance over him. 

Inadvertently the movement bears my hips down upon his and he lets out a sudden, rugged gasp against my lips when I do so, something hot like a magma pool beginning to well up and burn in the pit of my abdomen. Our kisses pause so we can breathe and I see his face, now completely flushed and his lips are slightly painted red from the light abuse I gave them… it’s by far one of my favorite faces that Asra makes. “That was new… but good.” Asra pants, his hands hesitating where they’re locked in place just at the base of my ribcage, “So-” 

I kiss him again.  _ If he has enough air to speak, then he has enough air to kiss me. _ And kiss me he does, with the perfect pressure his tongue darts out and greets mine in a teasing manner that causes heat to flash down my spine. I prop my arms up fully beside him, centering my gravity and when I deepen the kiss this time I roll my hips against his with purpose, tugging a quiet, surprised moan from within Asra’s chest. His hands glide down to my waist and hold on as if for dear life as I drag my hips against his, it’s  _ hot,  _ it’s quickly burning a brand of pleasure deep into my core and I didn’t realize just how pleasurable this could feel until it began and now I can’t find myself willing to stop. It’s so deliciously good, pulsating heat spiraling into my head like a hazy dream from a combination of Asra’s heated pleasure between my thighs and against my lips, I can feel him more defined than ever, especially when he bucks his hips up slightly against mine with another moan escaping between us. 

I didn’t realize how good this would feel. I’m drowning in it, it’s sapping my strength faster than I ever could’ve dreamed possible that for a moment I consider it, just riding this wave and grinding against Asra hard and fast until we’re both grasping each other in desperation but I don’t want this to be about me. For too long, ever since the Masquerade, Asra has been more than willing to pleasure me before pleasuring himself. He was okay with that, and as was I because I was afraid of going too far, but now I’m not afraid. Now, I  _ want  _ to delve into the unknown because it’s Asra’s unknown and I want to know him. I want to uncover what’s shrouded and know it better than the branded wolf’s paw mark on my palm. I want to pay him back for all the times he’s been there for me, for how much he’s given to me. This is extremely small in relative terms, but… it’s something. I need to start somewhere. 

And I’m starting here. I drag my lips away from Asra’s and instead focus on his neck and throat, leaving long, suckling kisses and teases of my teeth that make his breath hiccup beneath me as I start to shift lower. Asra’s voice catches as I drift my fingertips down his chest and push them up his shirt, reveling in the softness in his beautiful skin before I hum against his collarbone, “Let’s take this off…?” 

_ “Let’s.”  _ Asra pants, immediately he sits up and we can’t help but laugh at his eagerness as we finagle his tunic and scarves off of his body and to the other side of the bed, out of the way. I shiver when I see him laid out before me, truly a masterpiece of artwork the contours of his chest, even after seeing it plenty of times semi-clothed and now a few times more unclothed, I can never get over how absolutely gorgeous Asra is. When his gaze returns to mine I can’t help but immediately return my lips to his to show him what I can’t fully express in words, what I could barely express in the pressure of my hips against his that leaves him gasping all over again. How badly I want him, how much I’m willing to do to let him know it, that even though I’m nervous enough to be trembling slightly I want to try because he  _ deserves  _ to feel wanted like he’s made me feel wanted. 

As my lips graze his chest and I shift lower, I slightly part Asra’s legs to situate myself between them.  _ “Jamie.”  _ Asra gasps almost like a prayer. When I glance up at him with wide eyes to ensure he’s okay I see him perched on his elbows, staring at me with wide, stunned eyes like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “You’re… so so beautiful.” He finally whispers, barely audible over the thunderous roar of my heart in my ears. 

I flush in embarrassment and ignore the compliment for my own sanity save to press a kiss just next to his heart. “Can I touch you down here?” I ask softly with my lips barely leaving his skin, skirting my fingertips lower until they’re hovering just above the top of his pants. 

“If you’re comfortable with it, I am.” Asra hums, one of his hands brushing a stray lock of hair that had escaped my braid behind my ear. He certainly looks relaxed… far more relaxed in comparison to earlier.  _ Good… that’s really good, that means it’s working, I’m distracting him.  _

I let out a settling breath and shift to kneel off the side of the bed, slightly pulling on Asra’s hips to tug him closer. He moves willingly, sitting up almost entirely to help me get his pants off as I fight to swallow the nerves that threaten to strangle me when the anticipation wells and bursts behind my eyes when I see him fully nude for the first time. I’ve never seen  _ anyone  _ besides myself completely naked before, I knew it would be strange, but on the bright side… it’s not  _ so  _ strange. At the end of the day, Asra has what I have, which I understand and know, so how much different can it be? And it’s Asra… he’s no stranger. No part of him should be either. 

That still doesn’t stop me from busying myself with kissing his lower stomach as I build up the nerve to touch him where he’s most sensitive. Asra makes a soft noise, someplace between a hum and a murmur as his hands cart through my hair once more, keeping the stray locks out of my eyes as I litter his hipbones and then inner thighs with evidence of my lips. Only then after procrastinating as long as physically possible do I find the nerve to lay a hand on his length. 

It’s soft, velvety soft in comparison to the rest of him, and surprisingly hot to the touch. Not unnaturally, just far warmer than the rest of him. I drag my fingertips along the shaft in curiosity, making Asra shiver beneath me before I wrap a hand slowly around it, glancing up at my lover to ensure he’s alright. Asra’s head has rolled back now, his eyes are sealed in an almost peaceful guise as his shoulders rise and fall, the only hint of his pleasure in the palm of my hand and in the gentle caresses of his hands through my hair, lazy almost, like when he first wakes up in the morning.

I nibble on my bottom lip uneasily. I feel a little better that he isn’t watching me, but it’s still a bit of an adjustment. I’ll be fine once I really get started, or at least I hope so, so there’s nothing to do now but… 

I eye his length, my hand still frozen around him before my sense of courage finally returns. I lean forward, kneeling fully on the floor and gently tongue the soft tip as I start to slowly stroke my hand up and down. My mind sways a little mentally at the taste, salty but bitter, slick yet sticky when I realize it was Asra already dribbling with pre. Asra purrs like a lounging cat as one of his hands tangles in my hair and the other pulls a pillow under his head but otherwise he doesn’t respond to my explorative touches. 

So, I get riskier. I swirl my tongue around the head and now that I’ve been thrown into the deep waters with the taste it’s easier to accommodate for when it’s less powerful. Asra sucks in breath a little louder than before and it sends a shiver of pride straight up my spine like nothing else I’ve ever experienced to the point that I practically forget being nervous all together; suddenly it’s about  _ Asra,  _ and getting Asra to have the time of his life… whatever it takes. 

Remembering what Asra’s done to me - often enough now that I can recall it fairly easily - I try to emulate him. I take a deep breath and pull him into my mouth fully, trying to move my hand in time with my mouth and although it takes me a few tries to actually get them both on rhythm is doesn’t seem to matter because Asra suddenly starts  _ moving.  _ Suddenly his hands are in my hair, both of them, keeping it from my face and mouth as his legs shift beneath my arms and his hips cant upwards slightly into my mouth. A quiet groan escapes Asra’s parted lips alongside a few short pants that makes the hair on my forearms stand on end, and although what’s happening is new and strange and not exactly an orgasmic feeling for me, it’s  _ obviously  _ one for Asra, and that’s all the satisfaction I could ever need. 

I keep going. Only when my throat and jaw starts to ache do I pull off to instead mouth heated kisses along the sides while continuing to move my hand, faster now, matching the escalated rate of Asra’s breaths. And oh, he’s breathing heavily, gasping, moaning intermittently, incoherent whispers under his breath. Now that I’m breaking to breathe I can try and listen, understand what he’s saying, but all I can really discern is  _ ‘want you’.  _ So I decide to take another page from his book. “What do you want from me? What…” I whisper, my voice surprisingly hoarse to the point that it drops off completely. Asra’s eyes snap open as he sits up a bit to look down at me with a surprised look, and embarrassed I’m now being seen in this position I feel my entire face begin to bleed a deep rouge. Despite it, I try to finish what I had wanted to say. “... What do you… want… to… do… to… … me?” 

“Oh,  _ Jamie.”  _ Asra whispers through forced breath and a dark crimson in his face, I start a little when I feel him pulse in my hand.  _ Oh, he liked that… this is good information to remember.  _ “Anything.  _ Everything.  _ I want to do anything and everything to you. It’s what you deserve, at  _ minimum  _ it’s what you ought to have.” Asra pants slightly, his ethereal gaze shutting as his fingers wind into the sheets when I stroke him. I occupy my mouth to prevent myself from moaning as well because Asra’s voice is doing  _ things  _ to me that I never even thought possible, taking him back in and trying to delve deeper, just to see if I can. 

The result has Asra’s voice jumping to a suddenly new octave as he moans a little louder in the quiet, sacred space between us,  _ “Ahn- Jamie!  _ I want to kiss you until you’re gasping, I want to bite your neck until you’re moaning, I want  _ you _ , Jamie, I-I want you so badly I just can’t-” He covers his mouth suddenly with one hand as the other tangles into my hair, tightening its grip. His length throbs on my tongue and luckily I’m already holding Asra’s hips down for balance because when he breaks off his hips suddenly buck in a wild jump, nearly making me choke I was so unprepared. He gasps and swallows thick on his tongue as he quickly settles himself, muttering apologetically, “Oh no, I’m so sorry… I… You’re so  _ good  _ at this… Oh Jamie, you’re doing so well…” 

My face has never been redder. I’ve never done something so… compromising before. But I have absolutely no regrets about it. There’s something absolutely cathartic about Asra panting and begging and moaning like this, revolutionary about his hands threading through my hair like this, earth shattering to know this is how he feels… how he tastes, how he moves beneath  _ my  _ hand instead of his. “It’s alright. Do you like it?” Asra quickly nods like I had a timer on his response, so I keep going, faster this time, pressing my tongue tighter against Asra’s length and making his grip on my hair tighten then loosen, squeezing like a beating heart. 

_ And. It’s. So. Hot.  _

“J-Jamie, I’m close.” He gasps in warning, writhing slightly beneath me like he’s about to crawl out from under my arms on his thighs with the ecstasy. 

I pop off of the head of his throbbing length with a gasp for air, stroking him with ease from the wetness of my tongue to accompany it as I look up at Asra to meet him dead in the eyes, “You gonna finish for me?” 

“Y-yes, _ Jamie, I-” _ Asra moans and bucks into my hand and now from this position I can see the beginning of the tidal wave beginning to crest, beauty carved into his features like a statue of a deity as his hands seek to find me, my hair, my shoulders, my cheek. “Jamie I’m coming…!” 

I jerk in shock when he finishes, white suddenly shooting in front of me and landing on my chin and lips, even though I attempted to avoid it. I don’t find myself caring too much though when I see his face open like the skies after a storm, his lips parted in euphoria, and his eyes sealed with bliss. And when those eyes part they behold the universe, fields of lavender, nebula of lilac smoke, my breath is suddenly hard to capture and harder to hold. 

He smiles, chuckling softly as he slowly sits up and presses a kiss to my nose and then to my lips. “Look at you… what a sight you are when you make me such a mess for you.” His tongue darts out and laps up some of the substance still clinging to my chin, I blink out of my heady daze to stare at him as he laughs again, “You are… something else entirely.” 

I blush under the scrutiny, though truth be told I find it hard to focus at the moment because of how foggy my thoughts are.  _ I just caused Asra to orgasm. With my mouth.  _ “Was that… Was that good for you…?”

“ _ ‘Good’  _ can barely describe how amazing that was… how amazing  _ you  _ are.” Asra murmurs. I can feel his hands on my face tingle with magic and I realize it’s Asra cleaning his release from my features, I can trace it like a trail of breadcrumbs. “Are you alright? You look a little out of it- that wasn’t too much for you, was it?” Asra asks with a worried lilt in his voice, his thumbs brushing beneath my eyes as they snap into focus. 

Quickly I shake my head resting my hands overtop of his as I rejoin him on the bed. “I… no, not at all. I was still pretty nervous but… that wasn’t at all bad. Especially since you uh… seemed to enjoy yourself. That’s what matters most to me.” I mutter with a sheepish smile in his direction. I flicker my gaze across his features, his relaxed smile as he reclines back in bed and pulls me closer to him as he goes, the shadow of his dimple in the sunlight streaming through the beaded curtain, and I know this is a memory I want to immortalize for as long as I live. 

“Can I kiss you?” I mutter with a pensive look at Asra’s lips, apprehension causing me to pause. 

Asra sees this look and immediately chuckles with a light of amusement in his lavender gaze, “You never need to ask me that, Jamie.” 

I huff in embarrassment as cherry blossoms bloom in my cheeks, “Well, I didn’t know if you’d be grossed out or something because of where my mouth just-” Asra silences me with his lips softly pressed to mine, gentle and sweet like a summer breeze through treetops and it eases my riled shoulders as I melt into his arms. After a while his kisses grow lazier, glacial, and I realize it’s because he’s falling half asleep. No matter what time of day it is, any time we are together like this and he finds his climax, he ends up passed out asleep within the next half hour, like clockwork when a cat finds a puddle of sunshine. So lying in a tight cuddle beside him I guide his face to get cozied into my neck, which he takes happily with a few more kisses against my throat before his breathing deepens like the rush of crashing waves, consistent and soothing. 

It’s then and only then that my mind has the span to think about the cave. I shudder at the thought of the water surrounding me, on an almost unconscious level I pull Asra a little tighter into my chest as I thread my hands through his soft hair. That feeling in a tight corner where I reached into myself to find my magic to change me to make twist out of it and it wasn’t there… nothing less than terrifying. I hadn’t been that scared since… I shake my head to rid myself of the memory before its hazy images can even begin to form, shadows and glints of steel in moonlight. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how much I’ve come to rely on my magic. If something were to happen, in a tough situation where I would need to defend myself or Asra… I can’t do that without magic, I haven’t the training. With my magic, now with training I could, and if I didn’t have the proper spell that Asra taught me then I could change myself into a creature that could. What am I without my magic?

This question fills my chest with hard packed snow, weighing me down and making everything feel cold, only mitigated by Asra’s warmth pressed to my front. All I ever dreamed of in Thavuntis was being without magic. Distancing myself from it, using it only to keep me hidden from those who would react violently to seeing it… but now thinking about it, suppose I did find a way to rid myself of my magic in some manner. Then what was I? Who would I have been?

Even if I’d lost my magic when I was still at that god-forsaken orphanage, even if I’d gotten adopted by a home of people who said they wanted me… what was I if not just someone trying to hide their magic? Would the person they adopted even be Jamie anymore? Or some alternate dimension version of me, someone who would’ve gone by the full name James instead, maybe even stuck with the last name Hawkins, too, after the person who had dropped me off at the orphanage before disappearing for the rest of our life. That someone, James Hawkins, would be someone who would’ve been just like all those horrible people I’d met; someone who would’ve kicked a dog in the street to get it out of the way of a cart, who would’ve watched witches be tarred, feathered, stoned, even executed if the magical crime was heinous enough, and not thought it was wrong. That’s not the kind of person I want to be. 

_ Maybe that’s what the cave was trying to show me about my magic. _ I wonder idly, wrapping my arms around Asra tightly as he dozes.  _ My magic taught me to see the world from an empathetic perspective. To care about others because no one cared about me, and I never want for anyone to feel that way ever again.  _ In a way… my magic is more than just the tangible power I hold, beyond the cross me nots and let it lasts, even beyond the shapeshifting. It’s a perspective, one that shows me how the world can be cruel to people for no just reason than an accident of birth or just a straight up accident. One I might have never known if I grew up just like every other child in Thavuntis, destined to live out the same lives as they without ever knowing, or dreaming of knowing the world beyond the stone walls of the border. If I hadn’t had magic… I never would have encountered the reason I left Thavuntis. I never would have come to Vesuvia… I never would have met Asra. Or Muriel, or Nadia. 

A familiar lilac figure drifts up my arm and to my shoulder, her tongue flicking my ear as she peers at me with unblinking, friendly crimson eyes.  _ … Or you, Faust.  _ I think fondly as I spare a hand to scritch her head and chin before she too settles to nap with us, curling up between the hollow of Asra’s throat and my chest for maximum warmth.  _ Always has to be at the center, huh?  _ I tease in my head, even though I know she can’t hear me. I shift a little to give her a little more space between us as I leave a soft kiss on Asra’s temple, cuddling close to him as I let my eyes drift shut. Hard to not want to sleep when everyone else around you does, after all. 

As I drift into the world of dreams, I find myself unafraid of the nightmares I might encounter, or rather what their effect will be on me. Some things about my past still frighten me and I wish never happened, but it’s not my magic to blame for their occurence. My magic strengthens me, it does not control or detract from me. It’s a part of me, but not all that I am. I’m Jamie. 

_ I’m Jamie.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you would think with quarantine i would be a writing fiend but it was actually kind of hard to crank this badboy out. But yaaehaehah anyway blowjob chapter pt 2 plus feelings as always, we getting into some interesting stuff now lads.


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